I Surrender
by Holly version 2.0
Summary: Confusion. Pain. Misery.Despair. Love. Hate. Desire... What will it all lead to? Viewer disgression advised Woo more to come! Please RR...or just read!:D
1. Chop Chop

A/N: This story is going to be a little different from the other wonderful fics out there! This one is going to be a little musical!:: people throw things:: Ouch! It won't be that bad. We choose various songs that we think relate to Dr. Lecter and Clarice or Clarice and the FBI! We hope you enjoy! The music will be like in the background, not them singing it! So you have to use your imagination! We would recommend downloading the songs! It will help with the story and there really good songs too! This ~ ~ indicates when the song is being played  
  
Disclaimers: Nope, we do NOT own them, its kind of obvious. We also DON'T own any of these songs wonderful songs! Their rightful owners do. Okie dokie, good we got that cleared!  
  
Clarice Starling pushed open the front door and rushed in, throwing all the files and paperwork she held in her arms to the ground with fury. This familiar burn was building up inside her. The FBI had finally pushed her to her limit. Enough with all the damn paperwork and mocking!  
  
"Stupid cocksuckers!" she shouted angrily as she stormed up the stairs.  
  
~(It starts with) One thing / I don't know why  
  
It doesn't even matter how hard you try  
  
Keep that in mind / I designed this rhyme  
  
to explain in due time~  
  
  
  
Down the hallway. She kicked open the door to her room, heading straight for the punching bag in the corner.  
  
  
  
~ All I know  
  
Time is a valuable thing  
  
Watch it fly by as the pendulum swings  
  
Watch it count down to the end of the day  
  
The clock ticks life away  
  
Its so unreal~  
  
  
  
She grabbed her punching gloves off the bed and strapped them on.  
  
  
  
  
  
~ Didn't look out below  
  
Watch the time go right out the window  
  
Trying to hold on / but didn't even know  
  
I wasted it all just to  
  
Watch you go~  
  
  
  
She aimed her right hand and took a hard shot. Then her left. Again and again. Fury. Hatred. She hated them so much!  
  
~I kept everything inside and even though I tried  
  
It all fell apart  
  
What it meant to me / Will eventually / be a memory  
  
Of a time when I tried so hard~  
  
  
  
She threw her fists into the hard material over and over again.   
  
~And got so far~  
  
And again. She couldn't stop. Fury. Hatred.  
  
  
  
~ But in the end  
  
It doesn't even matter~  
  
Harsh sounds of the punches and Clarice's frustrated screams filled the room and carried down the hallway like wild fire.  
  
~ I had to fall  
  
To loose it all~  
  
  
  
Clarice brought her foot up and kicked the bag fiercely with her last ounces of strength.  
  
~ But in the end  
  
It doesn't even matter~  
  
She stopped to take a deep breath and wipe away her sweat. Images of all her days at the FBI were flowing through her head like a wild, gushing river, making her grind her teeth. People like Paul Krendler, Jack Crawford, John Brigham, Hannibal Lecter, Jamie Gumb...it made her sick to her stomach.  
  
~One thing / I don't know why  
  
It doesn't even matter how hard you try  
  
Keep that in mind I designed this rhyme  
  
To remind myself how I tried so hard~  
  
  
  
She stood there breathing heavily and staring hard at the punching bag, hot ice in her eyes.  
  
~ In spite of the way you were mocking me  
  
Acting like I was part of your property  
  
Remembering all the times you fought with me  
  
I'm surprised it got so far  
  
Things aren't the way they were before  
  
You wouldn't even recognize me anymore  
  
Not that you knew me back then  
  
But it all comes back to me  
  
In the end~  
  
  
  
Why? Why after all her hard, dedicated work do they still treat her like transparent trailer trash? Were they angry that she hadn't caught Hannibal Lecter back at the lake house? Were they confused because Hannibal Lecter had been intrigued by her? Were they afraid of her?  
  
  
  
~You kept everything inside and even though I tried  
  
It all fell apart  
  
What it meant to me / will eventually / be a memory  
  
Of a time when I tried so hard~  
  
Finally she snapped. She tore off her boxing gloves furiously, ripping at them with her teeth. She ran to her desk and toppled over it, sending pens, papers and files crashing to the ground. She grabbed a pair of sharp scissors. Running into the bathroom, she looked at her reflection briefly before taking a chunk of her fiery hair in her fist and chopping it off. She let it go, and it fell to the ground in a swift whisper.  
  
~ And got so far  
  
But in the end  
  
It doesn't even matter~  
  
  
  
Chop. Locks cascaded to the ground at a rapid pace.  
  
~ I had to fall  
  
To loose it all~  
  
  
  
Chop. The scissors sliced through Clarice's hair like a sharp knife, and her muscles tensed with rage.  
  
~But in the end  
  
It doesn't even matter~  
  
Finally she dropped the scissors, letting them fall to the ground with a clink.  
  
~I've put my trust in you  
  
Pushed as far as I can go  
  
And for all this  
  
There's only one thing you should know~  
  
Clarice, head bowed over the sink, slowly lifted her head to stare into the mirror. What stared back was not recognizable to her, but then again, nothing was to her at this point in her life. She understood nothing, she felt like a butterfly fresh out of the cocoon despite her many deep scars and steel nerves. As she stared at her reflection, she watched tears form in her eyes. They were not spilling over, but threatening to.  
  
~ I'VE PUT MY TRUST IN YOU~  
  
Without warning, Clarice threw a raging fist into her mirror. Shards of sharp, fierce glass shattered and flew into the air. The piercing sound rang inside her eardrums like a constant reminder of never- ending pain and frustration.  
  
~Pushed as far as I can go  
  
And for all this  
  
There's only one thing you should know~  
  
"I hate you, I HATE YOU!," she screamed to herself, staring into the remaining shards of glass that hung in the mirror. A single tear quivered and tumbled down her right cheek. It slid over the small dot of gunpowder called "courage", as if the single tear would wipe out all Clarice had of this.  
  
~I tried so hard  
  
And got so far  
  
But in the end  
  
It doesn't even matter~  
  
As she stared at her pathetic shape in the disfigured mirror, she felt the tears hot in her eyes. She tried to hold back, but one by one, they started to fall against and burn her cheeks. She gritted her teeth hard, and began sobbing.  
  
~ I had to fall  
  
To loose it all  
  
But in the end...~  
  
  
  
Clarice put her palm to her forehead and backed slowly up against the wall. She slid down slowly, sobbing, until she crouched on the floor and curled up into a small ball. She clenched her fists that were sliced with the icy mirror, bleeding. Her beautiful auburn locks were everywhere. Still, she was crying. A thousand answerless questions filled her head. White-hot tears still stung her eyes after she had wiped them away. Over and over, she asked herself why. Perhaps it was because the FBI had ruined her life. It was entirely possible that she herself had ruined it. She didn't know, but it felt empty and meaningless.  
  
  
  
~ ...It doesn't even matter~  
  
Clarice drifted into an uneasy sleep curled up there in the bathroom, a swirling mass of dark clouds surrounded her.   
  
  
  
  
  
--- The loud, blaring bite of her alarm clock sounded repeatedly from Clarice's room, making her heavy eyelids flutter. She still felt drowsy. Slowly and with some measure of difficulty, she lifted and cocked her head to peer through the bathroom door, looking into her bedroom. It looked as if a tornado had come and hit during the night; scattered papers and pens everywhere, her boxing gloves and clothes strewn across the floor. She groaned as she attempted to pull herself up, avoiding the broken glass. A distinct pain was shooting in odd parts of her body, and her muscles were stiff and sore. Clarice steadied herself at the sink and looked into the broken mirror once more. She only saw her reflection in pieces through the broken glass, like some abstract Picasso painting. She couldn't see well enough to actually realize the damage she had inflicted upon herself. From the sink drawer on her left she took a small round travel mirror and gazed into it.   
  
'I look like a fucking train wreck', she thought.  
  
Her before long, silky mane was now choppy and scraggly. Her ivory face was covered with smeared red with bloodstains from her battered hands.  
  
Five minutes later, she had pulled herself together and was running the hot water for a shower. The steam clouded on the shattered glass and made the bathroom air moist and warm. She stripped off her clothes and threw them carelessly on the ground. In the shower, she washed away all the dried blood and watched it swirl with the water down the drain. She scrubbed the rest of herself down then turned off the water. Slipping out of the shower, she wrapped a towel around her bare skin.   
  
She grabbed the small mirror off the side of the sink and peered at her reflection again. She turned her face away from the sight, setting the mirror face down back on the tile.   
  
"What the hell was I thinking..." she muttered exasperated. "Oh well, not like it matters. No one cares about me...why would they give a damn about my hair?"  
  
Clarice bent down, took the long discarded scissors in her hand and then rose. With her wet hair she decided she could cut off all the uneven parts. The snipping sound of the scissors now filled the room again, more concentrated this time. After she finished, it didn't look all that bad.  
  
She dressed quickly in some old baggy pants and a fitted white tank top. She felt comfortable, raising her confidence level slightly. She strapped a few Band-Aids on her slashed hands and jumped into her Mustang. She decided to clean the wreck she now called a house when she returned from work.  
  
  
  
--- The J. Edgar Hoover building- FBI headquarters in DC ---  
  
The moment Clarice stepped into the quiet offices and closed the door, people were hissing side comments to each other and snickering at her behind their hands. Clarice just snared and proceeded down the hall to her cubicle. She despised everyone in this place so much, with the exception of her one friend Ardelia Mapp. When she stopped at Delia's cubicle to say good morning, her friend looked at her with wide brown eyes.  
  
"Girl, you got a new haircut! What's it been, like five years?" she laughed and smiled one of her great big warm smiles. "It looks fab!"  
  
Clarice was slightly taken aback. She smiled.  
  
"Ohh, yeah." she laughed and ran a hand through her hair. "I thought I would go for a new look, you know. You really think it looks okay?"  
  
"Yeah, you bet! Hey, what happened to your hands?" she added puzzled as she caught sight of Clarice's slashed palms.  
  
Clarice looked down at her hands and rubbed them together. "Oh, yeah...I was doing some housework and you know, they just got beat up. Don't know how it happened."  
  
"Oh, alright..." Delia still looked skeptical and her eyes slowly drifted from Clarice's palms to a file on her desk. She picked it up and handed it to Clarice.  
  
"Anyways, we have a new case."  
  
~*~ :: pops up from a blanket, shielding her self from thrown objects:: Okay, so what do you wonderful readers think? Should we continue or just stop and prevent the embarrassment now? Reviews would be nice; they help determine if we should you know, go on and stuff. Hope you guys do like the story so far, we would like to continue! ~*~ 


	2. Damn Kids

A/N: Here is the next chapter, hope you like. Please R/R.PLEASE. ::silence:: Or not, it's okay.  
  
Disclaimers: No.do not own anything except for our souls! We aren't making any money of this, so please no suing.  
  
Clarice Starling sat on the hard copper park bench. She was muttering to herself, shuffling and quickly thumbing through the thick stack of papers that rested in her lap. Pen in hand, she marked some unintelligible scribble on one sheet of paper, licked her thumb for better friction, thumbed through four more sheets and marked again. One sheet full of words and five digit numbers with a large black and white picture of a sullen looking woman, scraggly hair and deep-set eyes appeared from the stack. Clarice slid her sunglasses from her nose to rest on top of her head and squinted down at it, then held it out at arms length.  
  
"Damn," she muttered and shoved it back into the pile. The case she was currently working on was a sticky and confusing one. Some drug bust on Fifth Avenue had caused a real stir with the FBI a few days ago, mainly because the dealer was a member of the gang that had been tipping off and guarding Evelda Drumgo, the infamous femme fatale that Starling had shot and killed some time ago. There had been a drive by shooting by one rival gang as the deal was in progress, and several people including three innocent bystanders had been shot and killed. The woman Starling had just seen in the picture was Amanda Slade, a gang member's girlfriend. She had just gotten out of jail and had been missing for about a week and a half, more or less. A caption under the picture read that she was last seen with Brian Kelly, who was in fact this drug dealer from Starling's case. It seemed there were now multiple reasons this man should be locked up in jail as of now.  
  
Starling sighed and ran her fingers through her hair. She sat back and closed her eyes and let the cool breeze kiss her skin. She listened to the calming sound of wind rustling through the tall trees around her and kids playing and laughing gleefully on the swing set in the distance, and could feel the warm sun on her hair and bare arms though could not see it. A bit of her stress seemed to melt away...  
  
A sudden memory flashed quickly, vividly in her mind. A dimly lit room, a wild crazed face set off with icily impassioned eyes bearing into hers with fire, seeing straight to her soul. A burning sensation in her stomach, steel in her eyes. Warm breath on her neck.  
  
"Tell me, Clarice, would you ever say to me...'Stop! If you loved me, you'd stop?'"  
  
Now fire in both of their eyes, devouring each other.  
  
"Not in a thousand years."  
  
"Not in a thousand years? That's my girl!"  
  
Clarice Starling was jerked violently out of her deep thoughts as she felt a pair of soft fingers sweep across her neck, sift lightly through her hair and disappear  
  
"Hannibal..." she breathed, teeth clenched, with a mixed tone of deep consuming relief and earth shattering passionate anger.  
  
She snapped her eyes open and turned swiftly around on the park bench, searching around frantically. Thoughts of Lecter raced in her mind, but she saw no one around her, only the little neighborhood kids playing on the playground some distance behind her.  
  
"No, couldn't be. My mind is getting to me," she reassured herself. That would be impossible. "It was probably one of those stupid little kids playing a trick on me. Yeah, that's it..." With that, Starling gathered all her stuff and left to meet Delia at The Zia Diner to discuss the case.  
  
  
  
Clarice Starling walked briskly along 21st street, on her way to meet Ardelia at the local cafe to discuss this drug bust case. She needed a lot of help on this, and Ardelia was the only person that she could think of who would be willing to help her out on it. Starling came to the intersection of 21st street and Manhattan Avenue and waited with the crowd of people to cross the street.  
  
Why was it her of all people to get assigned to this case? Hadn't the bureau gotten the hint that she'd had enough of Evelda Drumgo? Sometimes, she thought, they did it to spite her. To mock her. She knew one reason for sure: Paul Krendler.  
  
As Clarice stood waiting, she looked across the street. There was an outdoor sidewalk sale going on at a small clothing shop, and she could see the pantomime of the shoppers talking, comparing prices. Her eyes slowly drifted to rest on a small pigeon pecking at a breadcrumb on the curb. A noisy city buss stopped at the intersection, releasing its breaks with a noise somewhat like a can of soda pop being opened, and the small bird flew away.   
  
Her eyes wandered still, gazing at the crowd of people at the opposite crosswalk. She locked eyes with a man in a black business suit and briefcase. His eyes were concealed behind dark shades, but she could feel his eyes on her. He smiled. She grinned back slightly, and then looked to the ground.  
  
The light changed red, and both parties proceeded across the street. As she passed the man that had smiled at her, a gust of wind brushed her hair and made her eyelids flutter, and she caught the distinct smell of the mans cologne. She recognized the fragrance at once, and turned to glance back at the man...but he had disappeared. The sense of smell is one of the oldest of human senses and closest to the center of the mind. It can bring back the most vivid of memories, more than any scene, sound of taste ever could.   
  
Clarice Starling's heart began to beat wildly as memories cascaded into her mind...as she flipped through these, one picture flashed intensely among them and then froze still like a freeze frame in her memory.  
  
It was another dark picture, her dark office, lit only by a small lamp on her desk. Pouring over names, faces, locations...all having to do with Dr. Hannibal Lecter. She remembered the light fragrance of his letters...Armani men's cologne, she had guessed. She also remembered staring at his picture for some time, lost in thought.   
  
"Where are you." she had thought over and over again. "Where are you...where are you...?"  
  
As she neared the cafe, Clarice Starling shook herself angrily out of her thoughts once more. She suddenly clapped her hands quickly and fiercely together, as if smacking the memory out of her head. Several bystanders on the street looked at her awkwardly. Clarice looked back at them and realized how crazy she must have looked...she had probably even been talking to herself without realizing it. These thoughts and memories were indeed driving her mad.  
  
Clarice opened the door to the cafe and stepped inside, letting a small gust of air in behind her. The cafe was small and Vintage, it had an early 90's feel. Sounds of clinking silver-wear and hamburgers sizzling and spitting on the grill filled the cafe.   
  
Clarice immediately found Ardelia sitting at the closest booth to the door.  
  
"Hey girl," she said as Clarice threw her purse on the table and sat down.  
  
"Hey," Clarice said. She paused, and then continued, "Smells great in here."  
  
"You want somethin' to eat?"  
  
"That'd be great. What's that you're drinking?"  
  
"Just a coke."  
  
"I want one of those, too."  
  
Ardelia laughed. "Sure thing."  
  
A waitress came over to take their orders and once she left, Delia and Clarice began to discuss the case. Clarice explained about the drug bust and Amanda Slade and Brian Kelly. Ardelia nodded and sipped at her drink thoughtfully.  
  
"You have no proof that this Kelly guy kidnapped that woman," she pointed out when Starling was finished.  
  
"Slade was last seen with this guy, one week ago. She has been reported missing since then. He's been reported missing since last Tuesday, right after he dodged the D.C. cops the day of the bust."  
  
"So what are you saying?"  
  
"Slade and Kelly were boyfriend and girlfriend. Now let me tell you something, Kelly doesn't have a clean record at all-" She laughed. "Oh, no. Far from it. He's had a history of gang related violence and has been arrested more times than you could count. Yet various people have bailed him out every time. According to the police reports. He and Evelda were close. Very close, based on what the sources have said. Now Evelda, she had a lot of money, what whit her drug selling and rich husband and all. My guess is Kelly took a lot of shit for Evelda and got arrested for it, but was bailed when he did his time and got paid good money for it. I'm thinking Evelda just had different people from her little club to bail him out each time, and he'd do it all again for a couple hundred. Now I believe the reason the police never figured this all out is for one, they were extremely discreet. And two, what could they do if they found out? Chase Evelda Drumgo? They were already doing that. Plus Kelly never actually killed anyone, did almost everything but, but nothing a couple Thousand-bail money couldn't take care of. He had to have been her most valuable-"  
  
Clarice was cut off short when the waitress came by with their food and drinks.   
  
"Thanks-" Clarice glanced at the waitresses nametag, "Betty."  
  
"Your welcome," she said. "Is that it?"  
  
"Yes, thanks," Delia said. Clarice smiled and nodded, and Betty walked back to the bar, disappearing behind the counter.  
  
"Alright, go on." Delia said picking up her fork.  
  
"Well now that Evelda's gone..." Clarice paused, resisting another wave of terrible memories. She shook her head and popped a French fry into her mouth.  
  
"Kelly doesn't have bail money now. He doesn't have any more rich friends. At least, not ones that care about him enough. I would think that he's still got money from Evelda in savings, but no...I found out he blew it all on a Jaguar with a full-out stereo system. Blew thousands and thousands just on that. So when he did this drug deal, he drew attention to himself, and he had no bail money this time so he ran. Maybe he didn't want her to squeal or maybe he just wanted some company with him, maybe even both, but either way he took Amanda Slade that day and left town. Took his Jag with him. A bystander caught the license plate. Damn stupid bastard, if you ask me. He'll either get caught or have to ditch the Jag. Tough luck, huh?"  
  
Ardelia sat still for a moment once Clarice was done.  
  
"That's some stupid confusing shit right there," she said.  
  
"Damn straight."  
  
"So what do we need? Proof?"  
  
"Proof. And we need to track this guy down."  
  
"All right. What do we need to do with all this?" She motioned to the stack of folders and files on the table.  
  
"We gotta go through these police reports and talk to people who knew Kelly. Plus file a missing person report...no one has done that yet...have our friends in New York and places like that be on the look out for him."  
  
"We'd better cancel his checks and credit cards...things like that."  
  
"Good thinking."  
  
Delia smiled and clapped her hands together.  
  
"Alright, lets see these reports," she said sliding the stack of papers from the side of the table to sit in front of her. Clarice smiled and popped another French fry into her mouth. 


	3. By Myself

Disclaimers: Okie dokie.. we all know we do not own anyone.or the song All By Myself by Celine Dion. So please no suing. Thanks!  
  
A/N: Well, this chapter is more of Clarice's feelings and what not. And don't worry there will be more of Hannibal soon.not like anyone cares, no one is really reading this story but what the hell! We're writing it anyways! ^-^  
  
Sitting at her desk at home, Clarice was slaving over files and paperwork...yet again. She was still slowly trying to piece the puzzle that was her new case together, trying so hard but making hardly any progress each day.   
  
A warm breeze drifted into the room from the open window and swept across Clarice's skin, making her momentarily forget about the stress and strain of the case. She set her pen down on the case file and sighed, staring absent-mindedly out of the window up into the inky black sky, scattered with small white stars.  
  
She had so many things on her mind. Her thoughts could not be restrained...they kept drifting to think about life and those thousands of many, age old, answerless questions that everyone will ask themselves at some point in their lives. Why was she living this life? Why was she so alone in this world? If everyone else had someone or something to fulfill the vast void in his or her lives, why was it so difficult for her?   
  
Her mind drifted further yet to the times she felt most alive. She bit her lip, feeling slightly uncomfortable as every one of those times she recalled staring into those deep, spinning, maroon eyes. Being alive wasn't about feeling happy or excited to Clarice Starling, but rather feeling frustrated and intimidated.  
  
Clarice, snap out of it...  
  
All this thinking was giving her a headache.  
  
~When I was young  
  
I never needed anyone  
  
And making love was just for fun  
  
Those days are gone~  
  
She let her eyes wander from the open window to the fireplace mantle where her small collection of photographs were.  
  
~Livin' alone  
  
I think of all the friends I've known~  
  
She stood up and walked over to it, and after a moment slowly reached out her hand and picked up a small photograph. She glanced at it and ran her fingers over the smooth glass.  
  
~When I dial the telephone  
  
Nobody's home~  
  
Clarice placed the picture back on the mantle and headed slowly downstairs to the kitchen.   
  
~All by myself  
  
Don't wanna be  
  
All by myself  
  
Anymore~  
  
Opening a cabinet above the sink, she grabbed a bottle of the nearest painkiller she could find. She shuffled a few Advil out of the bottle, popped them into her mouth and clicked the cap back on.  
  
~Hard to be sure  
  
Sometimes I feel so insecure  
  
And loves so distant and obscure~  
  
Clarice looked out the window over the sink, envying the night sky for being so calm and at peace with the world. She sighed and closed her eyes.  
  
~Remains the cure~  
  
Walking into the living room, Clarice found the couch by the window and slumped over on it, her face hitting the soft cushions. Clarice's mind was buzzing and an overwhelming feeling was creeping into her chest. A few small teardrops flickered in her eyes and fell down her cheeks.  
  
~All by myself Don't wanna be  
  
All by myself  
  
Anymore  
  
All by myself  
  
Don't wanna live  
  
All by myself  
  
Anymore~  
  
Clarice lifted her head wearily and took a deep breath. She rose from the couch and moved towards the stairs and her bedroom, thinking she should try to get some sleep.  
  
~When I was young  
  
I never needed anyone  
  
Making love was just for fun  
  
Those days are gone~  
  
As soon as she got down the hallway, Clarice pushed the door open and headed straight for the bed.  
  
~All by myself  
  
Don't wanna be  
  
All by myself  
  
ANYMORE!!~  
  
Clarice felt her body hit the soft bed and she immediately began to weep again. Emotions exploded inside her...frustration, weariness, and unhappiness. She was so lonely.  
  
~All by myself  
  
Don't wanna live~  
  
Grabbing her pillow, Clarice muffled her cries of agony in it, hoping to quiet them.  
  
~OH  
  
Don't wanna live  
  
By myself, by myself  
  
ANYMORE~  
  
Clarice let out months, even years of pain. She cried until her eyes were red and sore, until her blue veins were visible through her pale skin. Though she was normally not one to trust another with her feelings, at that moment she wanted nothing more than for someone to hold her and tell her everything would be all right.   
  
~BY MYSELF  
  
ANYMORE  
  
OH~  
  
~All by myself  
  
Don't wanna live  
  
I never, never, never  
  
Needed anyone~  
  
Clarice finally fell asleep, holding her pillow tight. The only thing that was keeping her company was that pillow. 


	4. Everybody Hurts

A/N: Whoo, okay! Here is chapter.four. Yes indeed.hope you, if anyone is reading, are enjoying this so far! There is so much more to come! In this scene, Clarice will actually be listening to the song, it wont be in the background.  
  
Disclaimers: We do not own, anyone.except ourselves of course. And we do not own the song "Everybody Hurts" by REM.  
  
Buzz, buzz, buzz....  
  
Clarice shifted in her bed groggily, still clutching that pillow tightly to her chest.  
  
Buzz, buzz, buzz...  
  
Aware of the loud buzzing on her bedside table, Clarice muttered a curse to the damn pager as she rolled over and fiercely plowed the pillow into her face, trying to block out the noise from the pulsing in her head that were going neck and neck in intensity. She had pushed the pillow over her mouth and nose so quickly, and harder than she had meant to, that for a split second it stole her breath and she had the distinct sensation of suffocating. Again, for a split second she thought about leaving it there, somehow it felt better to her to inflict pain upon herself...at least it felt better than when others did it for her.  
  
Getting fed up with the annoying buzzing, Clarice finally threw the pillow from the bed where it hit her closet door and slid to the ground. She reached over roughly, thoroughly pissed off now, and chucked the pager across the room as well where it too hit the closet door and immediately stopped making noise, as though it could tell that this wasn't the time to get on Clarice Starling's nerves.  
  
As she stood up gingerly, her neck stiff and her eyes looking like something out of a horror movie, she lost her balance and fell hard onto the carpet.  
  
"FUCK," she muttered under her breath as she stood up again with the aid of the mattress. She blinked hard a few times, trying to regain her vision and walked slowly to the bathroom.  
  
When she closed the door behind her, she stared into the broken mirror for a brief moment.  
  
"Oh, aren't I just a beauty..." she said sarcastically to no one in particular in her raspy morning voice.  
  
Clarice ran a hand through her tangled hair and blew out a deep breath of air. She looked at the clock on the opposite wall through the reflection in the mirror. It was eight o'clock, time to get ready for work. She gritted her teeth and stared hard at her reflection in the mirror at the thought, but after a moment of cooling down began to finish getting ready.  
  
It was a silent drive to the bureau that morning, though she hadn't noticed it was so quiet since her mind was flowing with thoughts like a heard of wild horses stampeding through an open meadow. She stopped her mustang smoothly before a stoplight. Staring up at the hypnotizing red light shining down at her through the windshield, as she waited for it to shift to that brilliant green, she drifted off into a daydream...  
  
-- She stood on a high stone balcony over looking the city. The scarlet and gold dusk sky blended perfectly with the glimmering lights in the valley below, setting them off like a ruby to a golden band. A wine glass in one hand and a long stemmed red rose in the other. A long, silk maroon gown formed to the curves of her body with such perfection it was impossible to imagine her ever changing out of it. A string of miniscule diamonds lined her collarbone to finish the look. A man comes up behind Clarice, wrapping his strong arms around her lean waist. She closes her eyes and leans into his touch, smiling and feeling the warm, brilliantly golden sunset caress her face. The man now lowers his head to her neck, then leans in to kiss her gently on her cheek. ---  
  
Clarice snapped violently out of her pleasant vision when someone honked their horn and rolled down their window shouting, sounding very irritated, to go. She stepped on the gas petal hard, and zoomed off.  
  
"What a daydream..." she mumbled to herself.  
  
  
  
The mustang rolled into a parking spot right outside the Behavioral Science's building a few minutes later and Clarice stepped out onto the hard cement. A deep breathe to calm her, then she grabbed her purse, locked the car and preceded to the large, glass front doors. She headed straight for the elevators. As she stepped out of the elevator on the fourth floor, she walked briskly towards her cubicle and threw her purse to the side. Taking a seat in her rolling office chair, she took in another deep breath and took out the thick case file from her desk drawer.  
  
Almost three hours later, a frustrated Clarice snatched up her purse and headed once again for the elevators. She needed some fresh air away from the stifling suffocation of this building. Walking into the elevator, she angrily pressed the lobby level button. She looked above her for a brief second to the elevator shaft, remembering suddenly what Dr. Lecter had done so many years ago at the courthouse to those police officers...  
  
Earlier that same night, a night that was not so different from this one, she had gone to that very same building where Lecter had been moved from the Baltimore Psychiatric Hospital in Maryland to ask him a few questions about the Buffalo Bill case and to return his drawings. That night was one that would haunt her forever, she had spilled her soul to him, not holding anything back...not getting anything in return.  
  
  
  
And then he had touched her...  
  
"People will say we're in love," his metallic voice had echoed through the magnificent room as he stared deep into Clarice's eyes.  
  
Her fingertips still tingled whenever she thought of that first contact, it had literally sent sparks flying throughout her body...feeling how gentle this beast could be. From that moment on she thought of Hannibal Lecter differently. Not as a monster, but as a living and breathing human being. She had tried so hard to hate him, tried to convince herself that he was fictional; men that had done things as gruesome as he had done couldn't be real. But it was no use. Lecter had become as real to her as every fucking tear that had pierced her weary eyes every lonely night for the past eleven years since she had let him go...  
  
He had made himself a permanent part of her. She couldn't stop thinking about him since that night...  
  
Now, years later, things hadn't changed. He still inhabited every aspect of her life.   
  
Clarice shook her head to get rid of those thoughts as the elevator doors slid open and she stepped out, heading for the parking lot. Unlocking the door of her beloved Mustang, she collapsed into the worn out drivers seat. She inserted the key into the ignition and gave it a good turn. The engine putted a few times before it started, but soon it purred like a kitten. Clarice sighed and looked around inside the old beat up Mustang...it was definitely time for a new car.  
  
Backing out of the parking lot, she turned onto the long stretch of asphalt and drove off into the night. Clarice sat thinking for a while, blowing off some steam before she rolled down the windows and let the cool air rush inside. It blew across her face, tousled her hair and Clarice closed her eyes, enjoying it immensely.   
  
After a few more minutes, she decided to turn on the radio.  
  
"You're listening to 103.3 The Zone! Now for all you R.E.M lovers, here is 'Everybody Hurts!'"  
  
A slow and sad melody floated through the speakers, twisting itself around Clarice, intriguing her.   
  
~ When the day is long and the night, the night is yours alone  
  
When you're sure you've had enough of this life, well hang on ~  
  
Clarice reached over and turned the volume up, so she could hear the lyrics better.  
  
~ Don't let yourself go, everybody cries  
  
And everybody hurts sometimes  
  
Sometimes everything is wrong ~  
  
Pursing her lips, Clarice couldn't help but wonder if this was a sign. A sign that maybe everything would be alright...  
  
~ Now it's time to sing along  
  
When your day is night alone, (hold on, hold on) ~  
  
~ If you feel like letting go, (hold on) ~  
  
She did feel like letting go, letting go of it all...  
  
~ When you think you've had too much of this life, well hang on ~  
  
Without realizing it, Clarice gripped her steering wheel a little harder than she meant to.  
  
~ Everybody hurts, take comfort in your friends ~  
  
"What friends?" she mumbled to herself.  
  
~ Everybody hurts ~  
  
Suddenly the music began to become more intense. It struck Clarice like a dagger in her heart, and she forced herself not to start to cry...but it was so hard.  
  
~ Don't throw your hand, oh, no ~  
  
A single tear crept down Clarice's cheek, leaving a shimmering trail behind it...  
  
~ Don't throw your hand  
  
If you feel like you're alone, no, no, no, you are not alone ~  
  
Something scorching burst inside Clarice, and she suddenly found herself yelling loudly at the radio...though she knew she was really angry at herself.  
  
"But I am alone! I'm all alone!"  
  
~ If you're on your own in this life, the days and nights are long  
  
When you think you've had too much of this life to hang on ~  
  
Clarice's eyes began to fill with the familiar stinging tears. She was so tired of crying everyday...she didn't think her eyes could take it anymore. They were beginning to look permentantley red and the blue veins around them strained every time a tear rolled down her face.   
  
"I can't hang on! I have had too much of this life!"   
  
Clarice thought she must have looked like a fool screaming at the radio.  
  
~ Well, everybody hurts sometimes, everybody cries ~  
  
At this statement Clarice couldn't help but cry even harder. Everyday was getting more difficult for her to move on, and these tears were her only friends.  
  
~ And everybody hurts sometimes  
  
And everybody hurts sometimes, so hold on, hold on ~  
  
Clarice could barely see the road through her watery vision, her tears acting like a shield for her eyes. She pulled recklessly over to the side of the road and stumbled angrily out of the car, sobbing. Leaning with her back against the car door, she slid down slowly with her face in a grimace and crouched in the rough dirt.  
  
~ Hold on, hold on, hold on, hold on, hold on, hold on...  
  
(Everybody hurts, you are not alone) ~  
  
The song faded away into a new one as Clarice sat curled up on the hard ground. She sunk her face into her hands, trying to silence her sobs. Finally she pulled herself together like so many times before and took a deep breath. She rose and wiped away her tears on the back of her jacket sleeve. Thanking God and anything else that might exist for putting her on this highway to have her breakdown so that no bystanders saw it, she dusted herself off and slid back into her car.   
  
As she drove off again, she thought about how desperately she needed a break from her job. No, not her job...her life. She just needed to get away from all of it. Something was holding her back from just running away, but she didn't know what. 


	5. I Swer to drunk Im not God

A/N: Wow! Okie, I'd like to thank all you wonderful people who  
reviewed!!!! That makes us super happy!!! Our lives now have a meaning  
to it! But yes, this chapter is more OOC. But we thought we needed it  
cause we needed to lighten up the last chapters and what not. So we  
hope you enjoy this chapter! More to come!  
  
Disclaimers: Same old thing. We own nothing!! ::runs off crying::  
  
After a long, stressful hard days work and nothing better to do,  
Clarice decided to get a drink at a nearby bar.  
  
"Hey D, you wanna get a drink?"  
  
"Sure thing! I could use one right about now. I'll drive,"  
Ardelia said enthusiastically.  
  
Ten minutes later they were at the bar. They walked in with a  
clink of the bell on the door, and took a seat at the bar. The  
atmosphere was a hazy and quiet one. Smoke hung in the air like low  
clouds and strings of fairly lights lined the ceiling. A couple of  
biker looking guys was playing pool in the corner, beer in hand. The  
music was set to a slow country station. Clarice and Delia ordered a  
round of beers from the bored-looking bartender, and were soon in deep  
conversation about many different things, both laughing and gulping  
down their drinks, minds clearing and forgetting their tense and  
complicated afternoon.  
  
They were having way too much fun to realize a pair of  
maroon eyes gazing out from under the brim of a black hat, sitting in  
a secluded and dark corner booth...watching them. Watching them  
intensely.  
  
Hannibal Lecter sat sipping at a red wine, absentmindedly  
running his finger along the brim of the glass. He had been watching  
Clarice ever since she and Ardelia had arrived. He was glad to see  
her somewhat happy, although it saddened him equally, he knew it was  
the alcohol's numbing hypnosis...giving her fake emotions. Clarice  
drank frequently, more than her tolerance would allow, and he had  
noticed.  
  
About an hour or two of talking, laughing and drinking,  
Clarice finally stood up, downed the rest of her beer and set the  
bottle back on the counter, picking up her jacket and slipping it on.  
  
"Well D...I think I'll...walk home tonight. My house...is only  
a few blocks down," Clarice said motioning her hand to the right. Her  
voice was slightly slurred and her eyes looked small as if she had  
just woken from a pleasant dream.  
  
"Are you sure?" Delia asked, and Clarice nodded with a smile on  
her face. "Alright girl, if you insist. See ya tomorrow."  
  
Clarice grabbed her purse and waved good-bye to Ardelia. On  
the way out she ran into the doorway, making her fall over. She burst  
into laughter and so did Ardelia.  
  
"Ha ha, I'm OKAY! I got it, don't worry," she said while  
stumbling to get up. A few people in the bar and pool table area who  
had seen her snickered to themselves. Soon she was out the door, into  
the cool night air. Stars were sparkling overhead and all was quiet.  
  
Right away Hannibal stood from his private booth and followed  
her, like he always did. It was a natural routine, somewhat like an  
instinct. He wouldn't call it 'stalking', but rather 'watching' out  
for her was how he saw it.  
  
Clarice was having a little trouble keeping her balance. She  
had had more drinks that she thought. Maybe she shouldn't have walked  
home...  
  
She could have walked the ten feet back to the bar, but she  
knew Delia had already left. A few more steps and she dropped her  
purse out of clumsiness. She bent down slowly, trying not to fall  
over to pick it back up. Hannibal, who had been watching her, took  
this chance to drift swiftly into the dark shadowy alley in front of  
her. He blended perfectly, and she had not seen him.  
  
Clarice rose and continued walking with her head down. A few  
moments later she hit into something hard and crashed to the  
sidewalk. She stumbled for a moment then looked up to see what had  
caused her fall, and realized it was a man.  
  
"Oh, I'm so...so sorry...sir. Please forgive me," she said as  
the man gingerly helped her up. The alcohol was making her mind and  
vision numb and blurry. She didn't realize she knew this man, his  
deep crimson eyes and familiar voice. She knew his dark face with  
mysterious features. Yes, she knew this man very well.   
  
She looked him up and down through her cloudy hazel eyes.  
  
"Hey...your sexy," she stated and put her hand on his strong  
shoulder to keep balance. "Your very...sexy!"  
  
Clarice's vision was obviously impaired.  
  
"Why thank you. You're very attractive yourself. How about I  
walk you home?"  
  
Starling hesitated for a moment.  
  
"Um, okay!" she grabbed his arm and began walking with him.  
  
Hannibal wanted to laugh out loud, he couldn't believe she  
didn't recognize him...but he was enjoying it. He came out of his  
thoughts at this point to pay more attention to Clarice's rambling  
about random things.  
  
"And..and then I was like, 'No, I don't want," she began  
laughing, "I don't want your food! You're the dog!" She burst out  
into giggly laughter as if this was the most obviously hilarious thing  
in the world.   
  
Hannibal let out a small sympathetic chuckle. Clarice was  
beyond drunk!   
  
"That's very funny...Oh look. We're here."  
  
They approached the porch of a small conservative looking  
house.  
  
"We are? That's very...very fast."  
  
Clarice stood on the doorstep and fumbled through her purse to  
find her house key. After the fifth try she got a hold of it.   
Hannibal took the key from her hand and unlocked the door for her.   
Giggling she said, "Thanks."   
Clarice walked into her dark house and turned to say good-bye to the man, but he was gone.  
  
"Heeeeyyyy...where'd you go?" She called, looking out into the driveway. "Uh...heh, heh. Oh well."   
She closed the door from behind her and locked it. She set her purse down on her coffee table and the car keys inside of it made a loud clinking noise in the quietness of her empty house. Clarice now stumbled upstairs to go to bed. First she washed her mouth out with mouthwash, the alcohol aftertaste in her mouth was very unpleasant. She changed into a lacy black Victoria's Secret nightgown. It made her feel somewhat like a lady, something she didn't feel all that often. She sank into her bed after this and fell fast asleep.   
  
Hannibal had waited across the street of Clarice Starling's house until he had seen every light disappear from her windows. He now slinked slowly to her front door and held her key in his hand. He unlocked the door with a small click and crept in as quietly as a mouse. From there he walked up the stairs into her dark bedroom. Edging the door open, he peered his head around the corner. Clarice was sprawled out across her bed in a deep slumber. He moved to her bed and sat at the edge of it. Clarice looked blissful tonight in her sleep. Perhaps just because she was in a sleeping stage where you don't dream of anything. What other reason could there be?  
  
He gazed at her beauty. The blue moonlight drifted through the un- curtained window and settled across the velvety white skin of her face, neck and arms. Her hair looked magenta in the moonlight, and it was swept across her pillow like a sheet. Her eyes were closed and relaxed, and her full scarlet lips were still as her chest rose and fell calmly with her slow, steady breathing. Clarice's face was tilted upwards on her pillow, her long neck exposed. Hannibal stared at her neck and lips for quite some time; they were his favorite features of Starling's body. She truly was the most gorgeous woman he had ever seen. There was something rather special about Clarice Starling that he still couldn't figure out, and he knew he never would.   
  
He came back to reality when Clarice shifted and slowly reached over and rested her arm on Hannibal's lap. He picked her arm up ever so tenderly, careful not to wake her. He placed her warm, soft hand against his cheek and closed his eyes as he felt her grazing his cheek. Hannibal placed her arm down gently and felt her smooth skin beneath his lips as he bowed to her forehead for a goodnight kiss.  
  
A thin lock of magenta hair was swept across her face, and he slowly brushed it away as he leaned to her ear, whispering, "Well my dear, it is my time to depart. You sleep well." He was about to get up until when Clarice draped her arms around his neck and pulled his head to the crook of her neck, squeezing him tight.  
  
"No", she said groggily, "Don't leave..." Clarice trailed off. She was obviously having a dream.  
  
Hannibal stayed in her warm brace for a while; such sweet rushes of pleasure from every moment of it. But all good things have to end sooner or later, he knew that only all too well. He slipped out of her hold smoothly and stood up. With that he was gone.  
  
The lovely morning sun streamed across Clarice's face, waking her up. She fluttered her eyes open and sat up groggily at the edge of her bed. A sudden piercing pain between her eyes indicated a horrible migraine. She stared at her feet for a moment to wake up a little. "Oh god, my head...what did I do last night?" Clarice asked herself fiercely while rubbing her head. She stood up and stumbled into the bathroom to get some Advil, her head throbbing. That was the start of a long, grueling day at work. 


	6. Kiss Me Already

A/N: Yay! Thank you for reviewing! You know who you are!! :: points:: Thanks again! That chapter was fun and this one is just plain SEXY. Its like SIZZLE hot. We kinda skipped the workday with Clarice, cause I mean come on.it'd be boring. So hope you like! This is has a lot more Hannibal and Clarice contact!  
  
Disclaimers: Nope, we own nothing except the sexiness! Wow, we love sexy things!  
  
Clarice Starling stood, her fingers draped over the silk that now concealed her eyes. In an instant, her whole world shifted to deep red. Her heart was threatening to burst through her rib cage, hot confusion and exhilaration, which one might mistake with fright coursed through her veins as the force that had taken her vision now pushed her onto the sofa. She felt a somehow only too familiar hand run softly down her back. An immediate instinct, she crawled her fingers to her hip where she held a Colt .45. Not quick enough, the hand came to rest on hers and held it steady while the other slid the gun out of its holster. That was her only weapon on her, now in the possession of the enemy. Now unarmed, Clarice's confidence shattered and she could only obey.  
  
---- Ten minutes earlier, Clarice Starling slammed the door to her Mustang shut and quickly locked it. Rain poured from overhead, cold and piercing to fit her mood.   
  
"Fuck!" she had yelled and she threw a fist into the hard steel. She had wondered furiously why she put up with the torture everyday. Tomorrow would be the same, and the day after that, and the day after that. Every one of these days she lived with the fear that she might crack and free the fury that kept threatening to burst, as if it was air filling a balloon. It was too much, too much.  
  
Clarice Starling choked back a sob and instead let out a frustrated scream, thrusting her fist into the car door again.   
  
Dark crimson eyes, always concentrated, watched Clarice through the window of her living room window. Outside, he watched her run a hand through her rain-soaked hair and then run it across her right cheek, across her small black dot of gunpowder in the location called "courage".  
  
He saw her climbing the steps to the front door and he slipped behind it in an instant.  
  
The door burst open and Clarice stood for a moment, then chucked her purse onto the table, slamming the door shut with her foot.  
  
Hannibal Lecter watched Clarice shrug off her wet jacket and at this moment, he crept behind her with a scarlet silk scarf. ----  
  
Clarice Starling now sat breathing hard on her living room sofa. Lecter left her there for a moment to lock the front door and close the curtains, leaving only a slit to look through. He was quickly back in his place, sitting in an armchair some four feet away from the sofa.   
  
After a few moments of silence, he quietly spoke.  
  
"Clarice."  
  
Clarice had been waiting for this voice to sound. She knew who this man was.  
  
"What are you doing here?"  
  
"Is that the way you greet an old friend?"  
  
"What are you doing here?" she repeated, the words came out hard and cold.  
  
"You look well, Clarice."  
  
"Looks can be deceiving, doctor."  
  
"I know." he spoke softly.  
  
There were more moments of silence.  
  
"I heard your back on a case." Lecter finally said.  
  
"Yeah, they let me off easy when I-" she stopped abruptly then began again. "I should have been fired. They've been more than generous."  
  
"When you what, Clarice?"  
  
"When...I didn't catch you back at the lake house."  
  
"Well now, Clarice...that was hardly your fault." Clarice couldn't see the sparks of amusement and fire deep in his eyes, but could most certainly hear it in his voice. "You did your best."  
  
Starling sighed.  
  
"How is your hand, doctor?" she mused.  
  
"Ah, since when do you care about me, Special Agent Starling?"  
  
Clarice opened her mouth to say something, but stopped as she heard Lecter rise from the armchair and walk closer to her. She turned her head awkwardly closer to the sound and shifted slightly, as a blind person would.  
  
She heard Lecter fumbling with some things on the coffee table. A pop, a fizzing, a rushing sound and a clinking of glass on glass.  
  
"You know I care about you," she said finally. "I have no choice."  
  
"Ah, but you do have a choice, Clarice. There's always a choice. Would you like a drink?"   
  
"What is it?"  
  
"Champagne, I've picked up quite a few bottles in my travels."  
  
"Romantic."  
  
Lecter chuckled. He poured a glass and reached out and took Clarice's hand in his. Clarice took a surprised sharp intake of breath, then slowly let it back out. Her before normal heart rate was now dangerously high.  
  
Lecter took the glass of champagne from the table and placed it in Starling's hand, enclosing her fingers around it.  
  
"Do you have it? I'm going to let go now."  
  
Starling nodded as his warm fingers withdrew, leaving hers tingling.  
  
She touched a hand to the crimson cloth that covered her eyes.  
  
"Why am I wearing this?"  
  
When Lecter next spoke, his voice was back in the armchair.  
  
"I can't let you see me."  
  
"But you can see me? That hardly seems fair. Quid pro quo, doctor."  
  
Lecter laughed, not surprised that Starling would use his own words against him.  
  
"True. What would you like, Clarice?"  
  
"My gun."  
  
"You think I'm going to hurt you, Clarice?"  
  
"No."  
  
"Very well. I put the gun on the coffee table. It's right there in front of you. Just reach out."  
  
Starling walked her hands blindly around for a few moments before she found it and set it beside her.  
  
"Tell my why I can't see you, doctor."  
  
"I've had a few of my physical features altered, Clarice. I don't want you running to Jack Crawford, telling him of my new face."  
  
"I see."  
  
Dr. Lecter now sipped his champagne and Clarice reached out and upon finding the coffee table with her hands, set the glass on top of it.  
  
"Please tell me why you're here."  
  
Thunder cracked outside as the rain shattered on the windows. Lecter looked out at the storm.  
  
"Are you happy, Clarice?" he asked.  
  
"What?"  
  
"Are you happy. It's a simple question."  
  
"I heard."   
  
  
  
Silence.  
  
  
  
"Are you going to answer me, Clarice?"  
  
"Where did you go after you left the lake house?"  
  
"A week after, I was in London. Last week I was just outside Wales."  
  
"Why did you come back? You know it's not safe."   
  
"Answer my question, Clarice."  
  
She paused and tilted her head down. She stayed like this for a minute or so. Finally she brought her head up.  
  
"No, no I'm not happy."  
  
Lecter nodded thought she couldn't see it.  
  
"I know." he said.  
  
They sat for an eternity, listening to the rain crash on the windows. Clarice's mind drifted and thought about her life. No, she wasn't happy. She knew this, but had never been able to admit it to anyone until now. She thought about when she had first realized this. Back, back, back, her mind rewound the years of her life.   
  
---- "Dr. Lecter? My name is Clarice Starling, may I speak with you?"  
  
"Good morning." he had said. ----  
  
He had been the one that had made her talk about her life, had made her accept it in full truth. He had been blunt and fierce. She had been challenged. Never in her life had she had such an exhilarating and whole experience. He made her want to scream at the top of her lungs.  
  
Lecter sat across the room, outlining the curves of Clarice Starling's body with his eyes. Not only was she the most interesting woman he had ever met, she was also one of the most beautiful. He didn't think that she realized that she was beautiful. He didn't think she realized any of her beauty, not just physical. The moment he had laid eyes on her almost eleven years ago, she had intrigued him immensely. Of all of the women he had seen and spoken to in his lifetime she stood out. Clarice Starling was different...she was strong, intelligent and bold...and the thing that was so strange was that she had not been afraid of him.   
  
Over the course of these eleven years, obsession, dark and passionate, had settled like a roaring ocean between them.  
  
Clarice's mind flooded. She realized how she had ached for this man, how she had ached every single day of those eleven years. She wanted to say something.   
  
  
  
Shouldn't do this...fuck it.  
  
She gathered her courage and spoke quietly, breaking the thick silence.  
  
  
  
"Please," she said. "Let me look at you."  
  
Lecter gazed at Clarice. He needed her to see him as much as he himself needed to see her face as a whole. They had cut things so short back at the lake house; they needed to make it up to each other.  
  
He said nothing, but rose quietly and drifted over to Clarice. He kneeled to be eye level with her and reached behind her neck to untie the blindfold. Clarice began to breathe hard and fast. The silk dropped from her eyes and fell to the floor.   
  
Clarice blinked a few times to adjust her eyes to the dark light. She looked at Lecter calmly.  
  
"Thank you.," she said.  
  
"My pleasure."  
  
  
  
They stayed like this for a few intense moments.  
  
  
  
Lecter's shadowy eyes burned into Clarice's. Clarice's wide, fierce eyes bore back into his. There were so many things he wanted to do to her at that moment, but he knew he shouldn't touch. He wanted Clarice to give in and ensnare him inside a deep kiss, but he knew she was just as stubborn as he himself. He couldn't take charge. Rudeness was completely intolerable by his standards, and he was very disciplined  
  
Clarice had become tangled in the spinning webs of Dr. Lecter's eyes. She tried to look away, but something held her. A strong impulse told her to reach out and touch his face. She knew she wanted to.  
  
  
  
This is ridiculous.  
  
She tore her eyes away from Lecter's and picked up her champagne glass.  
  
"Well," Lecter said quietly.  
  
"Well." said Clarice, holding her glass up against her chest.  
  
Lecter stood smoothly and Clarice gazed after him as he sat back down in his chair.  
  
"The FBI have been treating you poorly," Lecter said once he had resumed his comfortable position.  
  
"I said they've been as good as they could have been to me," Clarice replied.  
  
"Ah, yes...I tend to stick my best, most intelligent, successful and daring young agents on endless, stifling, paperwork office cases as well."  
  
"Dr. Lecter-" Clarice began impatiently, but Lecter interrupted.  
  
"You said yourself that you're not happy, Clarice."  
  
"Who said that that was the area of my life that I had in mind when I admitted to that?"  
  
"...How many other areas of your life are there, Clarice?"  
  
Clarice fell into a defeated silence, allowing Dr. Lecter another strike.  
  
"The FBI has been your whole world, Clarice. It has become your very soul. And yet, they've slapped you in the face after every worthwhile accomplishment you've made. They've offered no support, no sympathy...they've not even spoken a kind word to you, have they? All you wanted was to make your daddy proud. You were so ambitious, Clarice, with so much to offer. They've turned you sour, and you've dealt with it. It hardly seems a fair game, Agent Starling."  
  
Dr. Lecter's words stung Clarice with the numb sensation of a need riddled with black poison. She managed to find the ghosts of words in her mind, sort them out of their puzzle and form a sentence. After a long silence, the sentence finally tumbled from her mouth.  
  
"Life is never fair, Dr. Lecter." she said quietly.  
  
"Life has been particularly unjust to you, Clarice."  
  
"I guess I'm just cursed."  
  
Lecter wanted so wildly for Clarice to taste even the slightest drop of happiness. He wanted to knock the sense into her. He wanted to tell her that the FBI was suffocating her, more and more pressure, less and less oxygen. If Clarice wasn't careful, before long her blood would turn to pure ice and she would loose grip of every sense of the miraculous she had ever had. He wanted and knew he could show her things she had never seen before, could make her feel things she had never felt before...if she would just say the word. Lecter knew she craved for something apart from this life, but not in a thousand years would she admit it.  
  
He knew all these things, and so desired to put them into words and drench Clarice with all the possibilities. Though to bring him to do this was very difficult. Clarice Starling was utterly unpredictable. She might shoot him then and there she might fling herself into his arms...and any wide range of actions in-between. He had been waiting years for this, and something told him if he didn't act now, it would all be lost. Clarice didn't have much left to live for.   
  
"Curses only have power if you believe in them, and I don't, Clarice. Do you?"  
  
"I believe in consequences, Dr. Lecter. I believe that everything happens for a reason."  
  
"And what do you believe the reason for your despair and discrimination is? Now think carefully before answering, Clarice."  
  
Clarice obeyed Lecter's command and thought with a deeply immersed look on her face. She was looking out the window and clutching the scarlet blindfold in her left fist. Finally, she spoke without taking her eyes from the hypnotizing fall of the rain outside.  
  
"I don't think I'll ever know, Dr. Lecter. I just feel it. Every instance, every action I make results in a greater purpose. I'm not sure if I'll ever know what that purpose is, but I do like to think I have an idea."  
  
Lecter, who could so easily have made a crude comment to this statement, fell silent. So simple a declaration should have made him attack her with his logic...something along the lines of there is no greater purpose than that which we find buried within ourselves. But he found Clarice's statement to be so oddly true and pure. Another thing that struck him, Clarice had permitted herself to tell him this. She was not one to tell people of her belief system. It filled him with superiority that even though she didn't necessarily trust him; he was the only one she had confided these things in. There was an unspeakable level of loyalty and trust between them.  
  
It did, however, provoke a burning inquiry on his part. He slowly stood up, a dark gleam in his eyes as he once again held the curves of Clarice's body deep in the pupils of his eyes. He began to make his way slowly over to her.   
  
"If you believe there is a greater purpose for every incident in your life," he said in a low growl, "Then let me ask you this: what was the greater intention for meeting and becoming so painfully close to me...Clarice?"  
  
Clarice's eyes were drawn to his with a powerful magnetic force, and she took a deep breath and steadied herself as she always did when Hannibal Lecter looked at her the way he was looking at her now. Lecter stopped when he got to the edge of the couch where Clarice sat, and stood awaiting an answer.  
  
"I don't know, Dr. Lecter," she said steadily, tearing her eyes sharply away from his.  
  
Lecter took his left index finger and placed it underneath Clarice's chin and forced it upwards so that she was looking at him once again. Suddenly his lips were dangerously close to hers, and she did not look away this time but rather focused with a sort of steady anger. Lecter smiled and turned her head slightly to the side.  
  
"Take a wild guess, Clarice...," he hissed into her ear.  
  
The warm breath on her neck sent Clarice soaring into complete darkness just as it faintly did back at the lake house. She closed her eyes and had to struggle to speak, as he was still close enough for her to be scorched by his flaming body heat.  
  
"I...I-" she breathed.  
  
"You what, Clarice?" Lecter said, and she fell silent, breathing hard. He placed four fingers underneath her chin once more, and ran his thumb over her lips. Once he stopped, Clarice involuntarily flicked her tongue out along her bottom lip, trying to taste where his fingers had been. She couldn't bring herself to open her eyes.  
  
Lecter couldn't take his eyes off Clarice. For everything he did to her, she had a counteraction that sent his heart racing. There were thousands more things he could do to her, and he was immensely curious to find out what her reaction to them would be.  
  
Lecter brought his head to the crook of her neck, and Clarice couldn't help but tilt her head to the side to allow him full access to whichever part of her neck he wanted. She wasn't exactly sure why she was letting him do this to her, to manipulate her like this, but it felt too good to stop. For the first time in a decade, she felt her pain begin to melt away.   
  
Clarice also couldn't help but think that she was no better, no matter how much she'd like to think she was, than any of Lecter's old victims. She was giving into him like all the rest...and though she knew this man was arguably the most dangerous man she had ever met, she also knew that he would never hurt her. What were his exact words? "The world is more interesting with you in it..."   
  
She knew one thing for sure, he was too afraid of what she would do to him if he even tried to hurt her.  
  
Clarice was so consumed in her thoughts that as soon as she felt Lecter's tongue slide across her throat, her muscles tensed furiously and she bit down hard on her bottom lip. Lecter brought his head back up to look at Clarice, with her eyes still shut tight, and saw her run her tongue across her lip again. A deep slit appeared after Clarice ran her tongue over the spot, over where she had bit down, and Lecter's eyes danced excitedly as he watched a thick, red drop of blood form on the edge of Clarice's lip.  
  
"I'd really like you to finish what you were trying to tell me before, Clarice," Lecter said softly.  
  
Clarice opened her mouth to speak and once again Lecter's lips were alarmingly close to Clarice's. She could feel his breath seep into her mouth and skin.  
  
"Dr. Lecter," she said breathlessly. "I..."  
  
"Yes, Clarice, that's as far as we got last time. Keep going, I'm waiting..."  
  
"I..."  
  
Lecter's lips were practically touching Clarice's now as they spoke in short breaths.  
  
"Jesus, Doctor..." Clarice panted with weary impatience. "Just kiss me, already."  
  
Lecter leaned in and firmly pressed his lips hungrily against Clarice's, as he had back at the lake house.   
  
Clarice's lips were burning like black fire and her mind was being slowly drenched with the familiar feeling of spinning helplessly around while at the same time being keenly aware of reality.  
  
Lecter wrenched Clarice's mouth open and slid his tongue along hers before pulling away.  
  
By instinct, Clarice resisted Lecter's lips leaving hers and leaned back into him, as if wanting more.  
  
"Clarice...do you understand what I'm trying to tell you?" Lecter hissed once again into her ear.  
  
Clarice finally opened her eyes, slowly. She paused for a moment looking at him, and then said, "You've been trying to tell me something, Doctor? It may help if you use your lips for talking."  
  
Lecter smiled. His wicked eyes bore more harshly into Clarice's, and he was about to open his mouth to reply when there was a sharp rapping on the front door, breaking the steady beat of the rainfall outside.  
  
Clarice's head whipped around to look at the front door, her heart burning and beating wildly with adrenaline.   
  
"Clarice!" came Ardelia's voice from the porch. "Hey girl, open up!"  
  
"Fuck," Clarice cursed frantically.   
  
Lecter looked calmly to the front door. It was locked of course, but the curtains hanging above the living room window were slightly open and Ardelia Mapp was sure to move onto them when no one answered the door.  
  
"Clarice," he held her face steady with his hand. "I'll be seeing you again. Soon." He leaned in, and still holding her face in his hand, ran his tongue across her lips. She moaned and closed her eyes. When she opened them, he was gone. 


	7. Cell Phone?

A/N: Sorry for such the delay! But here is the next chapter! Much more to come, so please read and review if you have time! Thanks a million! Disclaimers: Same as...yeah..::runs::  
  
It was Thursday morning and Clarice was still shaken about the happenings of the afternoon before. She couldn't believe she was once again playing cat and mouse with Hannibal Lecter.   
  
All she could think about as she tucked her auburn locks into a high ponytail and buttoned up her black blouse was when she would next hear from him. He had an uncanny way of inhabiting her mind completely and she could think of nothing but his gleaming eyes, black with fire and ice, staring at her, making her feel invaded in every single way she could think of. She felt she could hide nothing from him once their eyes locked.  
  
Clarice shuddered as she let out a deep, intensity riddled breath. Quickly she put on a small pair of golden hoop earrings and looked around for her keys and purse. Upon finding them halfway under her dresser, she threw them onto her bed and raked open her closet, searching for her jacket. As she flipped through various items of her clothing on hangers, a sudden flash of curiosity gnawed at the back of her mind. She stood for a moment, biting her lip. Finally, slowly, she reached to the very back of her closet and pulled out a long, black satin item that hadn't seen daylight for an eternity.  
  
The dark material seemed dull when mixed with the muted gray-blue light that hung outside of her windows, but Clarice remembered a time when this fabric had shone as brightly as the night sky. As she held the dress in her hands, Clarice drifted into a swift current of uneasy memories.   
  
-- The hallway was blurry, shadowy...eerie. Muffled sounds from beneath her...from downstairs. Voices. Her vision was shifting...she couldn't see. Everything around her seemed to be set in double vision. The cool wall on her forehead...a distinct nauseated feeling in the pit of her stomach. She felt farther from herself than she would have ever thought possible. Numbness and fright was spread throughout her entire body, she felt as if she wanted to move, to run, but could not. It was like being inside a horrible, abstract dream. She was scared, and the drugs made her feel weak and vulnerable. She was in a house she was not at all familiar with, she was unarmed, she was in clothing she had never seen in her life...yet she managed to stay inside her own head. She gathered her vague thoughts and decided she needed to find help...  
  
Downstairs. The dining room door was ajar...push it open. Hannibal Lecter stood above Paul Krendler, making...dinner? Paul looked lifeless, eyes glazed over.  
  
"Clarice, what are you doing up? You should be resting. Get back to bed."  
  
"I'm hungry..." was all she managed to say.  
  
  
  
Blurred scenes from the dining room...  
  
  
  
"Clarice...love the dress. It's beautiful."   
  
Why would he do this to her...did he think he was showing off? Did he think she would like to see Paul Krendler in this state? Corruption and un-real were the words that came to mind. It seemed like a dream...it was too gruesome, too insane to be reality. She would have dismissed it as that...she would have, if she hadn't grown to know Hannibal Lecter as well as she had. He was simply so mad that he was perfectly sane...it was the worst way a person could be.  
  
  
  
"You see the brain itself feels no pain, Clarice. If that concerns you."  
  
  
  
Human beings shouldn't witness scenes like this...  
  
  
  
Feeling nauseated...mentally and physically...  
  
"Given the chance, you would deny me my life, wouldn't you?"  
  
  
  
"Not your life."  
  
  
  
"My freedom, just that. You'd take that from me. And if you did, would they have you back, do you think? The...FBI? Those people you despise almost as much as they despise you? Would they give you a medal, Clarice...do you think? Would you have if professionally framed and hang it on your wall to remind you of your courage and incorruptibility? All you would need for that, Clarice, is a mirror."  
  
Hatred. Pure hatred. She felt as if scorching tears should be pouring down her cheeks, but they did not. She felt like steel...the words stung at her like burning flames in the center of her heart and mind...but she showed no reaction. Her skin was tingling with loathing and fire. The counterpart of what she felt was frustration. She knew what Lecter was telling her was true...but she gritted her teeth at the thought. She wanted to make herself believe it wasn't real. She wanted to make him feel as much excruciating pain as he had made her feel.  
  
Why her...why did he pick her of all people to be his toy? Fire, gritted teeth, hatred, frustration, confusion, anger...  
  
"Tell me, Clarice, would you ever say to me...'Stop. If you loved me, you'd stop."  
  
...obsession, attraction, understanding, freedom...a way to escape.  
  
"Not in a thousand years."  
  
"Not in a thousand years? That's my girl!" --  
  
Clarice dropped the black satin onto the bed in one swift motion as if just realizing she was holding a poisonous snake. She stared at it, feeling numb once again. Her brow was furrowed in thought and vivid emotions, a whirlwind of confusion and she could not begin to explain how she felt. The long, black jacket hung limp on a hook in the closet. Clarice grabbed it quickly along with the keys on her bed and slammed the door hard on her way out, not bothering to hang the dress back up from its strewn position on her unmade bed or close the open closet door.   
  
Clarice parked her car three blocks away from the Behavioral Sciences building. She locked the Mustang and began walking down Manhattan Avenue. It was a clear morning, the sun was not high in the sky, but it flooded the trees and streets with its warm honey colored light nonetheless. Small clouds of moist vapor puffed from Clarice's open mouth as she breathed, walking fast with her head down. Her lips were chilled from the quiet gray air, and she quickly ran her tongue along them for warmth and to prevent chapping. As she did this, Clarice could have sworn she could still feel the heated pressure of Lecter's lips on hers.  
  
"God girl, you're going CRAZY...," she mumbled to herself as she made a left on Capitol Street. About eight more minutes passed of walking and thinking before Clarice spotted her usual coffee stand located a half a block from the Behavioral Scienes building.   
  
Walking up to the cashier she dug into her purse and pulled out four tattered bills and a few scattered coins.  
  
"Hey, Seth." she said with a small smile to the young man with blonde dread locks behind the stand.  
  
"Hey there, Clarice. Having a rough mornin'?" he asked with a playful grin. He had no idea of what Clarice had been going through these past weeks, these past two days, especially.  
  
Clarice laughed in spite of something better to do. "You could say that again. Get me a large coffee please, Seth." She shoved the pile of money and coins across the counter in a small heap.  
  
"Sure thing." Seth turned and grabbed a large cup from a stack on the counter, skillfully flipped it around in his hand, set it under the coffee spout and pressed the small button.  
  
  
  
The cold air stung at Hannibal Lecter's eyes as he sat watching Clarice Starling. Espresso cup in gloved hand; he sipped at it every now and then, taking his time. She did look particularly bothered this morning, did she not? A little weary, he could see the beginnings of light lavender shadows beneath her deep hazel eyes. Lecter chuckled to himself; she was loosing sleep over him. How he loved having that effect on her. She was done paying for her coffee now, she took the cup in both hands and pulled out a chair two tables in front of the one Lecter was sitting at. She had not so much as glanced at him. Clarice slapped down today's issue of the Washington Post onto the tabletop as she took a seat.  
  
A minute passed...  
  
  
  
Two minutes passed...  
  
Lecter sat, gazing at Starling from his safe location. She was deeply immersed in an article in the middle of the newspaper, some Law Enforcement Official had been fired, no doubt an associate of Clarice's. Lecter had read the same newspaper only earlier this morning.   
  
Three minutes...  
  
Six minutes...  
  
Clarice smiled slightly at the comics on the Funnies page, and then folded up the newspaper in completion.  
  
Lecter took his cue and set his empty espresso cup silently onto the table and rose in the same manner. He dived a hand into his pocket, and ran a thumb over the smooth case of a small electronic device. It was still there, good...good. Smiling wickedly, he walked briskly down the street to catch up to a retreating Clarice. Once she had turned the corner from the coffee stand, he sped his walk up ever so slightly to approach her. There were quite a few people around, busy people on their way to work...no one looked twice at Lecter. Or Starling, for that matter.   
  
Clarice kept up her steady and brisk walk, unaware that someone was following her. She kept her head down and her jacket pulled tightly around her. As she past the police station in the rough, busy law district and neared the Behavioral Sciences building, Lecter caught up to her.  
  
Sliding right up against her body, making it look as if he had only accidentally collided with the pedestrian, he hissed a few words into a startled Clarice Starling's ear.  
  
"You should get more rest, Clarice...you look dead on your feet."  
  
As he said this, he quickly extracted from his pocket the small black device and slid it smoothly into the side pocket of Clarice's long, black jacket. She had not noticed, she was too busy staring at the face that was only inches from her own.  
  
"Dr. Lecter..." she breathed. "What--" she began but Lecter only remained long enough to give her a small smile and then he sped up, turned the corner on the upcoming block and vanished.  
  
Clarice broke into a run and left the few yards from where she had been to the intersection on the next street behind her. She looked around frantically; searching for where he had went. The stoplight above her suddenly flashed green and the traffic started up and zoomed along, breaking any chance for a sight of him. Still hopeful, she stood on her tiptoes to look above the traffic, but it was no use. Clarice lowered her hand from her gun in the holster on her belt. It was too late...he was gone. 


	8. Never lose your grip, dont trip, dont fa...

A/N: Sorry for the delay! But here is the next chapter! We skipped a lot of boring stuff and just got to the good part. You know, we didn't want to lag on about Clarice at the office! Hope you enjoy, more to come! And thanks for the reviews again! :)  
Disclaimers: The same as the last 7 chapters! Hee hee.  
  
Clarice came to the warehouse where the rave was taking place. The music was louder than ever.and she wasn't even inside the building yet. Clarice braced herself for the roaring music inside. She kicked open the door and walked in. She always wanted to do that. Ardelia followed behind her, covering her ears.  
Inside the warehouse, were tons of teens hoping around, twirling their glow sticks to the pumping base coming from the speakers. Clarice looked around for, Adrian Reynolds. Clarice kept on blinking her eyes, for the flashing strobe lights were in her eyes every 5 seconds.  
"How can anyone stand all this," she asked herself.  
Clarice turned around to find Ardelia trying to do the liquid with some teen.  
"Girl, you have to try this! It's really cool," she shouted with a smile of amusement on her face.  
"Oh god. Delia we don't have time for this!"  
Ardelia sighed and nodded her head. She attempted to scan the place for Adrian as well. The lights seemed to have gotten brighter and the techno music seemed to get louder than hell! Clarice shoved her way through the dancing mob, throwing their hands up in the air. Her and Ardelia avoided the flinging arms and the glow sticks. Soon Ardelia spotted Adrian.  
"Clarice, there he is! Near the speakers," she yelled as she pointed to a tall boy with spiked orange hair, dressed in silver UFO pants and many garments of jewelry.  
They made their way to the speakers, hoping they wouldn't go def. Clarice took a hold of his arm and showed him her badge. He smiled at her and continued dancing. He mouthed to her "Dance!" Clarice shook her head no. Once again Clarice showed her badge to him, motioning for him to step outside. He obviously wasn't listening. He grabbed Clarice and started dancing with her. A flush of red came over Clarice's face, of embarrassment and frustration.  
With her free arm, she motioned to Ardelia to help her out. Ardelia came behind Adrian. He was moving too much for both to get him down. Clarice was fed up with this. The music, the lights, him, everything. She pulled away from him fiercely and grabbed her gun. She held it out in front of his face as if it were nothing. Adrian immediately stopped dancing.  
The bass roared loud, and teens were jumping everywhere. Adrian became very paranoid and decided to try and escape. He jumped into the wave of teens. He soon vanished.  
"God damn it!" Clarice yelled.  
She dove into the crowed, shoving teens off her. Ardelia tried to follow, but lost sight of her when the lights flashed faster and the music grew louder. She glanced around and saw the DJ above everyone. She could tell the DJ to turn off the music and lights. All Ardelia would have to say was 'FBI'. Ardelia headed to the stage.  
This was all to confusing trying to concentrate with the lights going crazy and the music wilder than ever. Not only that, but mad hoping teens everywhere. Clarice wormed her way through the teens and finally spotted Adrian. She tackled him down, wrapping her arms around his so he couldn't hit her in the face. Raver's around them stopped and backed away.  
Ardelia reached the stage and leaped on. She flashed her badge to the DJ known as DJ Duckie. Delia motioned to the DJ to turn off the music. She did so and everyone stopped dancing and moaning filled the room. Soon all attention went to Clarice and Adrian on the floor wrestling.  
Delia grabbed the microphone and began to speak.  
" Please step aside kids, we are with the FBI," she flashed her badge " Do not do anything rational." As soon as she finished her sentenced, teens scattered off screaming, running outside.  
Clarice and Adrian were getting trampled by frantic teens. Clarice released her hold of Adrian and attempted to get up. But it was too hard to. Sub-concisely she rolled into a small ball, covering her head. Delia jumped off the stage to save Clarice and Adrian. Ardelia couldn't make it to them; she kept getting knocked off track.  
"Clarice!" she shouted at the top of her lungs.  
" Ardelia I'm," Clarice stopped yelling as a person stepped on her. She screamed in pain as another teen kicked her in her stomach.  
The crowd was soon gone. Clarice opened her eyes to find Adrian motionless on the floor, bleeding. Clarice caught her breath and forced her bruised and battered body up.  
"Adrian? Can you hear me?"  
Delia came running to the scene. She kneeled down next to Adrian, prompting his head on her lap. Blood seeped from his mouth. He was barely breathing. This was not good.  
"Adrian, it's okay. Help is on the way." Ardelia said is a soft whisper.  
Clarice winched as she got up. She wobbled to the payphone near the restrooms. Her vision was blurry and she was dizzy. She was soon to be passed out. But, she made it to the phone and dialed 911, telling them they need an ambulance. Right after that, Clarice fell to the floor unconscious. Delia looked over her head and saw Clarice on the floor.  
" Oh shit. Not good," she whispered to herself. 


	9. So what am I to you, if I can't be broke...

A/N: Here is chapter eight! Really do hope all of you wonderful readers are enjoying the story! Don't worry there will be PLENTY of contact with Clarice and the ever so suave Doctor! Thanks again for all the reviews, they make us happy!  
  
Disclaimers: Don't own em, it's a sad world. ::falls to the ground:: Pain.  
  
Clarice Starling took a deep, calming breath, smoothed out her black skirt and walked into Director Robert Andersen's office. Her face was set pretty much expressionless, maybe a hint of annoyance or anger because she had already prepared herself for the worst.  
  
"Agent Starling," he had said in that obnoxious superior tone, "Please take a seat. This is director William Miles." He motioned to a tall, thin man who looked to be in his mid 40's and added, "You already know Dave Kessler with the Department of Justice," he again gestured to a young, thin man, grinning at her suggestively from across the room.   
  
Clarice imagined herself walking over to him briskly and smacking him hard on that sleazy face of his.  
  
She forced a small smile onto her face instead.  
  
"Starling, you know why you're here. The whole rave deal."  
  
"Director Anderson, but-" she began.  
  
"But nothing, Starling. You created this whole mess. We specifically ordered you to wait for backup, and you denied it. You cannot do these things, Starling. Not in the FBI."  
  
Clarice gritted her teeth. They had no idea what had happened...  
  
"You did not tell us to wait for backup, sir. Things got out of hand; Adrian wasn't cooperating so we took him down. We weren't about to let him go and loose our only witness we found, after weeks of looking, to this case."  
  
"I don't want to hear it, Starling. You're wasting our time with this. I would have expected you to follow FBI protocol and wait for backup. At least if he got away he would still be alive, for Christ's sake.....and you'd still have your witness." Andersen turned his chair around to face Dave Kessler.  
  
Kessler looked over to Clarice and paused for a moment before he began to speak.   
  
"You're lucky we're taking care of the media for this mess. The kids that attended that rave are leaking information to all the tabloids and newspapers. We can't afford to let you stay on this case anymore, Starling. It's too much of a risk to take if something goes wrong again. We can't afford you messing up anymore."  
Did they think Clarice had not memorized the FBI protocol booklet inside and out like she had for the past twelve years? They were making all of this up; it was only supported by vague arguments. Of course she had no one to complain to, these men were the tops of the totem pole at the FBI. It was up to those bastards if they wanted to pin this whole thing on her because they had it in for her...  
  
"This is bullshit...." Clarice muttered as she flicked her eyes to every man in the room.  
  
"I'm sorry, Agent Starling," Director Anderson lied. "There's nothing we can do. We're dismissing you from this case. You're also suspended until further notice."  
  
Clarice grinded down on her teeth hard. This was the second case she'd been kicked from in a year. And suspended? For what? She couldn't believe it...it wasn't her fault. All the anger she felt she kept bottled up inside her head, hoping and praying that it wouldn't seep through while she was still inside this office. To make things worse was the last thing she wanted to do.  
As Clarice began to stand, wanting to leave the office before her emotions exploded and ricocheted off the walls, she heard Director Anderson's cold voice sound behind her.  
"You know, Starling, you used to be an agent with true potential. I remember a time we would have jumped at a chance to put you on a case."  
Clarice stopped at the doorway, her eyes narrowed and he began to speak again.  
"What happened to you, Starling? Ever since the Hannibal Lecter case, you've been different...."  
A pang of fire flashed in Clarice's chest at the mention of this.  
"It's that thing Lecter does with people. Can you imagine? Especially you, Starling. You grew so close to him...dangerously close, I'd say.." A grin pulled at the corner of his mouth and there was a light general snickering that filled the room.  
Closing her eyes, trying to contain her temper, Clarice took a deep breath. They were trying to provoke her, they were trying to get her to go completely berserk and that way they could have even more of an excuse to suspend her from duty. She wasn't going to give in.  
"Not denying it, are we, Clarice?"  
Clarice? No one in the FBI had ever called her Clarice before. It was always 'Starling' or 'Agent Starling.' The reason they never called anyone by their first names was because it was a matter of respect and keeping everything to a strictly professional standard. It struck a personal chord. How dare he think he could call her by her given name?  
"Everyone knows you must have a hidden attraction for Hannibal Lecter. It's primal, isn't it? All those hours you spent with him....and God only knows what happened that night at the lake house. You allowed yourself to be twisted by his ways...probably because it was the only excitement in your life since your father died? "  
Clarice gritted her teeth...she wouldn't give them the satisfaction of seeing her break down.  
"You would let a cannibalistic killer into your life, let him speak deeply with you, let him inside your head...let him touch you, Clarice? All out of angst? Or do you really think you made a connection with him? If that's what you thought, I don't know why we even let you into the FBI in the first place."  
Her mind was screaming now, it was bursting with pain and suffering. How they were acting was sick, and it was breaking every rule the FBI had ever laid down. Did they have no shame? No feeling whatsoever? Yet he still wouldn't give up until she fought back. It was like a school bully on some playground...the child was curled up, whimpering, in a ball..kicking her over and over again until she stood up, dusted off and threw a punch. Well, if that's what they wanted....she was going to make damn sure they didn't get it.  
Director Anderson was getting smugger after every cruel word that dripped from his mouth. He actually enjoyed seeing Clarice in pain.  
"You would let him fuck you, wouldn't you, Clarice? If he wanted it? I never thought I'd see the day when an agent would sleep with a most- wanted killer. What kind of whor-" But he was cut off short as Clarice muttered something under her breath.  
"What?" he demanded.  
Clarice turned fully around to face him. Her eyes burned with the scars and pain the FBI had inflicted on her over the years. A sadness that wasn't imaginable traced her eyes as well as her face. It should have made him realize what he had done, but it didn't. He glared back.  
"Motherfucker...." Clarice muttered through clenched teeth.  
Director Anderson's eyes grew wide and suddenly the room seemed much more silent.  
"Who the hell do you think you are?" Her voice was deathly quiet.  
"You know very well who I- -"  
But he was cut off as Clarice's voice cut through his like a steel knife.  
"Why the hell do you do this to me? All of you," she eyed them all one by one, hatred glowing red beneath her beautiful hazel eyes, "For years, I've done the best I can. I've tried to figure out why you treat me this way when I've poured, literally, my blood, my sweat and many, many tears for you," she stopped and gritted down on her teeth, feeling tears in her eyes again. It just made her more determined to show them what they had done.  
She held up her arm, and rolled back her sleeve. Sickening scars blazed deep into the skin on her wrist from the mirror and they still hadn't fully healed. There was no doubt the motive and reason behind these cuts, it was painfully obvious. She looked back to them again. "That's not half the damaged you've caused. Do you know what I gave up for this? And all you could do was steal my pride...steal my life. Do you see what I've been hiding? Do you see what you've done? I'm only this way because of what you have made me. It's like.....I'm on the outside, looking in, and I can see right through you. I can see your true colors.....and you're ugly, just like me. You just love to feed off rumors, don't you? You'd do anything to hurt me, just because I was treated....differently....by Hannibal Lecter? ....You make me sick......And you know what?" She paused and shook her head and smiled a small, painful smile. It wasn't so much that she really wanted to smile, as she wanted something to keep the tears from falling and pain from bursting. "I don't give a fuck anymore. You don't need to bother. I never really had a voice to protest... and I really do know whom--or better, what, you are. You're all fucking conceded assholes.....and I've had enough. I tried hard to make you proud, I'll never be good enough for you. I'm sorry I can't be fucking perfect. It's for all this...I give up trying." Clarice reached for her badge and gun that was fastened to her hip, and flung them with a silent anger to the table where they slid to a stop before Director Andersen. "I fucking quit. I can't take this anymore. I'm never, ever, coming back. So don't waste your precious breath. You won't ever have to look at my face again." She looked them all over once more before stepping to the threshold of the door and looking back briefly. "So what am I to you, if I can't be broken? You'll all get yours eventually. And I hope I'm there." With that she stepped out and down the hallway, letting the tears fall freely and not even bothering to wipe them away. Walking briskly back down the hallway, she thought, they'd get theirs eventually...they'd know how she felt. She'd get them back, she'd make them feel the torture...someday. 


	10. Send The Pain Below

A/N: Sorry for the delay, here is chapter 10. Hope you fine people are enjoying this. There will be much more to come.  
  
Disclaimers: Same thing my friends, same thing. And we do not own the song "Send The Pain Below", Chevelle, one of the best bands does!  
  
Clarice passed the cubicles, the people; her co-workers and fellow agents, and pushed the door to the flight of exit stairs open. Tears streamed down her cheeks. She leaned up against the door and wiped them away. Minutes passed.  
She reached her hand up and pulled her hair out of its bun, it falling in a messy auburn shower around her shoulders and in her eyes. She glanced out the small window in the door...she'd never see this place again. She thought she should feel more...empty. But she didn't...she felt...free. Not a single regret was at the back of her mind. She stood back up straight and went down the rest of the stairs, never looking back.  
Rainfall reached Clarice's ears as she opened the exit door and stepped out onto the sidewalk. She didn't bother to find shelter from it; it felt cleansing, like it was trying to clear her of troubles. Clarice let it pour over her as she walked back to her car.   
  
~ I like having hurt,  
So send the pain below where I need it ~  
  
  
Freedom was something Clarice hadn't tasted in a long, long time. Though she felt release unlike any she had felt for a decade, her heart still ached from the years of torment. This ache would never go away. It was buried too deep, they had scarred her forever. But she knew was going to go on.   
  
~You used to beg me to take care of things,  
And smile at the thought of me failing ~  
  
She was going to prove them wrong, she was going to show them that she didn't need them, that though her whole life had been a mistake, she was going to turn it around. It was never too late to change your life.   
  
~ But long before having hurt,  
I'd send the pain below,  
I'd send the pain below ~  
  
Clarice rested her forehead against her palm that was pressed to the window of her Mustang. A silent sob escaped her throat. What if all this about changing her life around was a lie just like everything else? What if nothing ever changed or became better? Her head hurt from thinking and she didn't think she could take another day like this, let alone the better half of a lifetime. There were still too many unanswered questions, and she didn't know if she would ever find a resolution to any of them.   
  
~ Much like suffocating,  
Much like suffocating,  
Much like suffocating ~  
  
A hand touched Clarice's shoulder, and she looked over slowly to see Ardelia beside her. She was as soaked through by the rain as Clarice was, and her eyes showed a deep empathy.   
  
~ I'd send the pain below,  
Much like suffocating,  
I'd send the pain below ~  
  
"Hey girl, it's alright." She reached up and folded a lock of wet hair behind Clarice's ear. "You're okay." Clarice turned her head away so Ardelia couldn't see her cry. A pause came before Ardelia began speaking again. "I was up there. I heard you storm out. Hey Clarice, you're going to be okay. You're the strongest person I know, girl. You're a survivor." Clarice shook her head. "I'm not what you think I am, Delia."   
  
~You used to run me away  
All while laughing ~  
  
"Sure you are. You're that girl who tells people flat out what she thinks, who doesn't give a shit when some sons of a bitch try to take her down, who talks back to a serial killer...?" Clarice shook her head, the faintest trace of a painful smile crossing her lips. "I can't do this forever, Delia. I quit the FBI, but I don't think that's even going to help anything. I'm cursed. Stuck forever in this dream."   
  
~ Then cry about the fact,  
'Til I returned ~  
  
Delia shook her head slowly and reached out, putting a gentle hand on Clarice's. "I can't see how anything is going to get better. It's getting hard just to breathe." Ardelia moved closer and her arms came around Clarice's body in a strong embrace.   
  
~ But long before, having hurt,  
I'd send the pain below,  
I'd send the pain below ~  
  
"Girl, it's all about faith. Now I know whatever you might think, there's a part of you that wants to believe you'll turn your life into something worthwhile and leave this all behind you. And that's the part you gotta listen to. No matter how small, you gotta have that faith that it can be stronger. Faith, Clarice," she cradled Clarice's face in an upturned hand, and pushed it up so that they locked eyes, "Faith."   
  
~ Much like suffocating,  
Much like suffocating,  
Much like suffocating ~  
  
  
  
~ I'd send the pain below  
Much like suffocating  
I'd send the pain below  
Much like suffocating ~  
  
As these words bore into her heart and soul, Clarice buried her face into Ardelia's shoulder. She began to feel amazed that she had these many tears to cry. "God, Delia, it's so hard." She sobbed. "I know girl, I know. But you're strong."   
  
~I can't feel my chest, Need more, drop down Closing in ~  
  
  
  
~ I can't feel my chest, drop down ~  
  
Clarice's hands clenched Ardelia's jacket in fists and her breaths came in sobs that were painful even to hear.   
  
~ I liked having hurt  
So send the pain below  
So send the pain below ~  
  
  
  
~Much like suffocating (I liked) So send the pain below ~  
  
  
  
"Hey Clarice," Delia said gently after a moment. "How about I stay with you tonight? You shouldn't be alone like this."   
  
"I...think I want to be alone tonight," Clarice managed to say in a surprisingly steady voice.   
  
~ Much like suffocating (having hurt)  
So send the pain below ~  
  
  
  
"...No girl, I really don't think you should be alone. I'll take the couch; we don't even have to talk. But I want to be there."   
  
Clarice nodded silently.   
  
"Thanks, D."   
  
"No problem, girl. You go home and rest, I'll be round at about seven." She turned her head to the side and gave Clarice a light kiss on the forehead and one last reassuring squeeze before releasing her and walking away.   
  
Wiping her tears away and taking a deep breath, Clarice got into her car numbly and pulled out, not knowing exactly where she was going, but wanting to get far, far away from this place and it's unbearably sickening memories. 


	11. This Is Where Your Sanity Gives In and L...

A/N: Here is the next chapter! This is one is a bit long and I would like to say, "Thank you" to Jesse for doing such a great job at detail with this chapter! Hope you enjoy, much more to come!  
  
Disclaimers: The same as before my dear friends.  
  
"Thanks D, I really appreciate it all this."  
  
"Anytime, anytime," she smiled softly.  
  
The two girls were curled up snugly on the couch beneath a heavy blanket, head and shoulders popping out of the top like two little turtles. Several hours had passed the two friends by while they talked and chatted about anything and everything, the two laughing and sharing stories to pass the time. For Ardelia, this was a rare and welcomed opportunity to get to know more about her stubborn and withdrawn friend. Ardelia had known Clarice for a long time now, but as best as she could remember, Clarice had never come close to opening up to her. When talk turned to serious issues, Clarice was like a brick wall of emotions; Ardelia could not figure out how to get through to the other side. Now, however, as they both sat warm and comfortable on Clarice's couch, Ardelia felt openness in Clarice that she had never before shown. If there was ever a better time for her to learn more about the life of this woman who was practically her sister, she had never noticed it.  
  
"Clarice, remember back when we were trainee's and you got that case? And then you had to speak with Dr. Lecter?"  
  
Silence.  
  
"Yeah, and...?" Clarice narrowed her eyes at Ardelia, her defensive instincts kicking in.  
  
"And well, what I'm trying to say is," she paused, " You didn't seem to be frightened that he was free..then you know the whole thing at Chesapeake with Dr. Lecter."  
  
"What are you trying to get at D?" She asked rather harshly.  
  
"Nothing," she held up her hands in defense, " Never mind."  
  
"No, Tell me!" Clarice snapped as she tossed the blanket to the floor and stood. "Do you think I.let him go.because..because I have feelings for him?! Hmm? That I didn't try and arrest him? Cause, if you do-" Ardelia cut her off.  
  
"No! I wasn't getting at that." She cried, her face becoming red with embarrassment at how stupid she had been to try and prod Clarice. She knew that girl better than anyone, and just the same she knew that Clarice hated being questioned.  
  
"Then what?! You act as if you thought..that..that, oh never mind!" Clarice shouted, throwing her arms into the air in frustration. She sighed heavily, and fell backwards against the wall, her bony back hitting the plaster with a dull thud.  
  
"Girl, I'm sorry, lets just drop it. Even if it wasn't that big if a deal," Ardelia said, glancing questioningly at Clarice, who was leaning against the wall, her eyes red from the stinging of tears.  
  
Her cheeks were pale and motionless, and her chest heaved with deep sobs. Arderlia had made her cry; her best friend in the entire world, the only one she could ever trust, and she had made her cry. Ardelia felt a painful lump grow in her throat as she stared at the frail figure of Clarice collapsed against the wall, this strong woman that had been reduced this sad, sobbing statue of salt and water. Ardelia took a timid step towards her.  
  
"Clarice?"  
  
Silence.  
  
Ardelia took another step, and as she set her foot down on the soft carpet, she felt a warm tear trickle down her own cheek. Her soft skin burned where it left its shiny trail.  
  
"Clarice? Clarice! What's the matter?"  
  
Clarice's body shook with the force of her tears, her lips trembling and her face turning red. She opened her mouth, and let out a pitiful whimper. She raised her eyes glistening eyes to Ardelia, and more tears flowed down her cheeks.   
  
"Oh Clarice...,"Ardelia gasped, several more tears blazing there way down her cheeks to splash quietly on the carpet.  
  
"Oh god Ardelia, its true. Its all true," Clarice whimpered, her back beginning to slide down the wall slowly as her legs folded up beneath her. She landed on the carpet with a muffled thump, and let her head fall back against the wall. "I do have some kind of feelings for this man they call a monster! He is always on my mind! What does this mean?!"  
  
The pair stood in a cold silence, broken only by the sound of Clarice struggling to breath over the force of her sobs. Ardelia knelt on the floor, and swept a crystalline droplet off of Clarice's cheek with her finger. Clarice raised her bloodshot eyes to Ardelia.  
  
"D, you don't think differently of me now?"  
  
"No, no. I understand...I do," Ardelia whispered softly to Clarice. It was an outright lie, and she was sure Clarice knew it, but she said it anyway. All she wanted was for this woman to return too normal. As Ardelia crouched there on her knees gazing down at the slumped over figure of her friend, she felt frightened. She felt inexplicable fear towards the world that could do this to a person; she felt fear towards the sick God that would let this happen. And most of all, she felt fear for Clarice, who she had thought was so strong and so confident, but now seemed like a completely different person. This could not be the Clarice she had known since college. Ardelia knew it couldn't be. But as she sat there gazing into Clarice's defeated eyes, her once vibrant hazel eyes, she knew it was. It was her Clarice, her sister, and she was dying inside.  
  
"What do I do.what do I do," Clarice's voice was barely more than a squeak. The tears has stopped flowing down her cheeks, but her face still glowed red with the strain of her sorrow, and her eyes still glittered wetly.  
  
Ardelia sighed, and leaned over to her friend. She gently wrapped her arms around Clarice's delicate yet strong figure, and pulled her towards her own chest. Clarice fell willingly into Ardelia's arms, resting her tired head against the other woman's comforting shoulder. The pair sat there in silence, listening to each others labored breathing, while Ardelia softly stroked the long silky length of Clarice's hair with one hand.  
  
Ages passed as the two sat suspended in a melancholy silence, the clock ticking away minute after minute in rhythm with the trickling of tear after tear down Clarice's cheek. Neither woman said anything, for neither knew what to say.  
  
Ardelia began to feel the carpets tiny loops of fabric digging painfully into her knees, and the strain of supporting her tear-ravaged Clarice was beginning to wear away at her strength. The dampness of her shoulder beneath Clarice's face had turned cold, and the girl no longer took each breath as if she had to fight with every particle of air to get it in. Clarice now slumbered silently on Ardelia's shoulder, her soft, and smooth breathing tickling gently at the dark skin of her neck.   
  
"Lets get you to bed," She turned her head and whispered to Clarice. She cupped her arms beneath Clarice's, and lifted her gently to her feet. Clarice stirred, her eyes flitting open, and she smiled kindly at Ardelia.  
  
They made there way slowly upstairs, Ardelia still supporting the weight of her tired and feeble friend. They half-stumbled down the hallway into Clarice's bedroom, where she plopped Clarice gently onto the bouncy bed, and brought her nightgown out from the closet. Clarice took it from her with a thankful nod of her head, and slowly began removing her clothes. Ardelia turned her back to afford her friend some privacy, just listening to the soft swishing of clothes as Clarice half-mindedly changed into her night attire.  
  
When she heard the soft creaking of Clarice laying herself down onto her bed, she turned around and walked over to Clarice's side. She already had herself tucked snugly under her heavy stitched blanket, and was quickly sliding peacefully into the tranquil void of sleep. Ardelia stood above her for a few seconds, gazing at the face of her distraught and pained friend, her eyes for once seeing more than just a person, but a tortured and withered soul.  
  
Clarice's arms were sprawled out on either side of her, her figure looking everything like a pale delicate angel, framed in darkness by the sheets of her bed. There were dark red scars on Clarice's wrists that Ardelia had never before noticed. Her eyes grew wide with surprise as she reached down and brushed her fingers along her friends creamy white wrists, her fingers running roughly over the jagged lines that ran darkly across her supple skin. Another tear began to trickle down Ardelia's cheek, yet another burning trail being forged where hundreds had already fell.   
  
"You sleep well, girl," Ardelia whispered into Clarice's ear. "I'll be here for you."  
  
She bent over and kissed Clarice lightly on her forehead, then walked out of the room, closing the door with a quiet click.  
  
The bright green numbers of Clarice's alarm clock bathed the entire bedroom in an eerie green glow, like that of hot flame. The jagged geometric numbers shimmered in the dark; 3:12 AM. Clarice lay motionless in her bed, her bright auburn hair spilling out over her pillow, looking like tendrils of smoke in the dim shadows of night. She had tossed the blankets aside in her deep slumber, and she now lay exposed, the sinuous curves of her scantily clothed body showcased on the dark sheets like a moonlit silhouette. The room was beautifully tranquil, as was Clarice's mind. Sleep was her refuge, the only time in her life when tragedies and tribulations did not interfere with her desires.  
  
Yet happiness is to good to last, and the serenity of the sleeping woman was soon broken. The sharp, high-pitched ringing of a phone ricocheted about the room, snapping the silence into a million irretrievable pieces. Clarice's eyes fluttered open as her dreams began to seep away from her, her vision blurred and fuzzy in the iridescent green glow of her alarm clock. For several seconds, she lay stunned in her bed, the devastating realization that she had just been thrown back into reality slowing her train of thought.  
  
Mumbling and cursing under her breath, Clarice groggily stood, and began to search the room for the source of the ringing. She found it in her coat pocket; the small smooth plastic of the cell phone that had been slipped in her pocket a few days back. She fumbled around in the pocket trying to get a hold of the phone, finally pulling it out and holding it up in front of her eyes. Every few seconds a harsh tone sprang from inside its plastic casing, barraging Clarice's foggy brain with sound. She flipped open the phone, and placed the cold plastic against her ear.  
  
"Well, hello Clarice. So glad to hear you answered the cell phone I gave you."  
  
Clarice froze. She felt her heart stop in her chest, her blood turn to ice in her veins, and her tongue turn to sand in her mouth.  
  
"Ex-Special Agent Starling, I know you're there. I can hear your breathing. Might I say, it sounds as if you just came back from a long needed run." Hannibal chuckled lightly, the emphasis he put on her title slicing through her disbelief and prodding at her in the subtle way only Dr. Lecter ever could.  
  
Clarice gulped, her frozen tongue feeling heavy and clumsy inside her mouth. Was she hallucinating? Was she still dreaming? She remembered it vividly; today she just had that huge breakdown in front of Ardelia. Thoughts of Dr. Lecter had been eating away at her insides ever since, and now this happened. It must be a dream.  
  
She opened her mouth to try and voice some kind of words, something to let the man know she was here, she was listening, and she wanted nothing more than to talk to him. In her mind the felt the soft touch of his arms clasped around her body, the gentle stroking of his hands, the iron gaze of his maroon eyes. She felt the soft flavor of his lips against hers, the touch that set her tender flesh afire. She was lost in her own memories, drowning in sensations that never should have been, and never again would be.  
  
"Starling, you cannot think to conceal yourself. A cell phone does not breathe all on its own."  
  
The images and sensations faded from Clarice's skin, leaving a warm tingling along her spine and in her face. She pulled the phone away from her ear, and took one long, shuddering breath, her entire body shaking with the depth of it. Her stomach felt like it was made of jelly, churning itself over with every breath she took.  
  
"Dr. Lecter.." She finally was able to whisper into the receiver of the phone. The force it took to say those words was almost more than she could take.  
  
"Aw, my Clarice, welcome back to Earth. I was afraid you drifted back into your own fairytale land. Do you enjoy that land Clarice? I bet there, you don't hear the lambs." Lecter said, his tone flat and dead serious. There was no laughter or mockery in his voice this time; instead Clarice heard a kind of curiosity and concern. What the hell was this man up to? His emotions and tones changed so fast, they were so random and unpredictable that she never knew what his underlying motives were. Was her trying to antagonize her? Was he torturing her?  
  
She felt herself clenching her free hand into a fist, her teeth grinding in frustration. Inside her, she felt this terrible growing sense of anger. It was an intense physical sensation, like a balloon expanding inside her body. She felt her limbs shaking, and she shut her eyes to try and stop the flow of tears. She boiled like she was a toddler about to throw a temper tantrum, and her immaturity and stupidity only made her angrier.  
  
"What do you want, Dr. Lecter!?" She growled, her teeth clenched heavily and her eyes clenched shut, the tears being held back by sheer will.  
  
"Temper, temper, my dear friend. You might want to watch that. You could get yourself in trouble with that attitude." Lecter once again resumed his sardonic battering of her psyche, his confidant mocking tone eating away at her own sense of confidence.  
  
"I'll repeat myself once more, what the hell do you want?" Clarice felt her voice rising, her own tone bubbling with anger. Her breath rasped against the receiver of the phone, her face turning red with indignation.  
  
Hannibal chuckled again.  
  
Clarice broke.  
  
As her entire body shook with rage, Clarice slowly drew the phone down from her ear and turned around to face the rest of the room. She gritted her teeth in one last desperate attempt to qualm her own fury, but all she could think about was all the pain this man had caused her. He had always been there, tempting her from beyond her reach. It was him that caused so many issues with the FBI. It was him that had always haunted her dreams. And it was him that was here now, reappearing in her life, stalking her around the city, making unannounced and arousing visits to her house, continuing to lead her around on a leash. The man delighted in seeing her squirm, seeing her suffer. She wouldn't take it anymore. No one put leashes on Clarice Starling! The FBI had tried, and failed, and now Hannibal Lecter, despite all his cunning and manipulations, would fail too.  
  
She raised the phone up and took one last look at it before hurling it violently across the room. She watched as it hit the wall with a sharp crack, and bounced to a halt on the floor. In the eerie silence that followed, she could hear the droning sound of dial tone from all the way across the room.  
  
It was the moment she saw it hit the floor when the feelings of regret first crept into her mind. For what seemed like hours the stood in frozen horror staring at the motionless phone, the continuous sound of digitalized dial toned reverberating inside her head.  
  
"Oh fuck." She said aloud to herself. She just threw away a call from Hannibal. The man who haunted her thoughts and her dreams, the man who tugged at her desires like no one else ever had, and she had just threw away her only chance to talk to him.  
  
"What the hell have I just done?!" Clarice cried, throwing her arms up in the air in consternation. She quickly walked across the room, gently picking up the phone as if Lecter himself were somehow suspended inside it. The phone was unbroken, and she sighed with relief, even if she didn't know why.  
  
The fact still was, however, that she had just lost Hannibal. She had never even said a word to him. Not a single kind word. This was the first time they had talked since that passionate meeting in her living room, and she had made it seem as if he meant nothing to her, despite the fact that at this point in time nothing in the world meant more.  
  
As she left that thought suspended in her head, the shrill tone of the ringing phone once again filled the room. Clarice looked down at it with wide eyes, and practically ripped the phone open as the lifted it to her ear.  
  
"Still, after all these years, you never fail to surprise me, Clarice." Lecter's smooth voice once again washed over her ears, and this time she was so very happy to hear it.  
  
"I'm very sorry, doctor, for hanging up. The phone found its way to the wall and I couldn't do much to stop it." Clarice smiled, hoping that by seeming lighthearted she would convince Lecter that she hadn't just had a huge breakdown.  
  
"Oh, no need to apologize, Clarice. We all have our moments." Lecter consoled her thoughtfully. His attitude had totally changed since the phone call a few minutes ago. Whatever she had done had actually made Lecter change his behavior. For some strange reason, that made Clarice feel very special.  
  
After the two shared a few moments of contemplative silence, the doctor spoke again.  
  
"Oh, and Starling, do you still want to know the answer to your question 'what the hell do you want?'"  
  
Clarice nodded her head slowly, forgetting for a moment that Lecter could not see her. The doctor, of course, knew enough to take the silence as a yes.  
  
"The reason I called, Clarice, is because I need to inform you about something." He said, his tone neither urgent nor complacent.  
  
"Okay, go ahead and tell me." She said, her fear and anger finally absolving into curiosity. Hannibal Lecter was usually a very blunt man; he said what needed to be said when it need to be said. So for Lecter to lead up to this so slowly and suggestively was far more personal and reserved than she had ever known him to act. The man's actions never failed to catch her off guard.  
  
"No, Clarice, we must speak in person. Are you willing to meet me somewhere right now, or are you pre-occupied at the time being?" She could here him smiling over the phone.  
  
"Is that an invitation to dinner?" Clarice laughed, beginning to feel herself sliding back into the familiar game of words that she used to enjoy on a regular basis.   
  
"Does the idea of a picnic on your front lawn at 3 AM sound attractive to you, Clarice? My, you are adventurous."  
  
Clarice paused as she considered what Lecter had just said. It took her three seconds, then she dashed across the room to the window, and flung aside the curtains. There, below her window, stood a single man, his figure a silhouetted shadow above a sea of pitch black. Clarice gasped, and stumbled back from the window in surprise. In her ear echoed the mirthful laugh of Lecter, his strong voice dancing around inside her head.  
  
"Be calm Clarice. It was much easier for me to find you than it would have been for you to try and find me." Lecter said, a hint of laughter still in his voice. "Since your not alone in the house, however, it could be risky taking the front door. Perhaps you should come from your bedroom window."  
  
"Dr. Lecter, you assume that I'm even coming at all." Clarice said flatly, even though she was already sliding her feet into a pair of fuzzy black wool slippers.  
  
"By all means, Starling, it is your decision."  
  
She paused.  
  
"So, do I climb down the tree?" She asked after a few seconds hesitation.  
  
"Precisely." Lecter answered. "And might I add, you have excellent decision making skills. You should consider a job in law enforcement."  
  
This time, Clarice calmly let Lecter's sly jab slide off her skin. No need to spill blood over a comment she knew was not meant to do any harm.  
  
"Hmm, all right. I'll be right out."  
  
"See you outside," She heard a quiet clicking noise as the phone on the other line was snapped shut, and then a few seconds later, dial tone.  
  
Clarice snapped her own phone shut with a grin, and tossed it onto the bed, where it bounced to a soft halt. Pulling aside the curtains once more, she swung both her feet out onto the roof, he slippers padding softly against the hard weathered shingles. She laughed as she pictured herself as the rebel teen girl, sneaking out of her room to meet with her forbidden lover, then abruptly stopped. 'Lover'? She chided herself harshly for letting such ridiculous thoughts into her mind, and refocused her attention on navigating the slippery shingles. About three paces of steeply slanted and shingled roof lay between her and the first branches of the tree, and in the dark each blind step seemed like it would be the one that sent her careening over the edge.  
  
She placed her feet carefully, straining her eyes in the dim light that radiated from the window of her room, picking out loose shingles and carefully navigating around them. If she was thankful to the FBI for only one thing right now, it was the coordination she developed during her long years of physical training.  
  
As she neared the tree, she let her pace quicken, preparing herself for the final lunge that would land her safely on the tree branch. He feet padded heavily on the remaining few steps to the edge, and when her foot hit the one loose shingle, she was falling before she even had time to scream.  
  
Her feet shot out from beneath her, her back thudding dully against the tile below her, and a sharp crack resounded where her head came in hard contact with the broad face of the weathered shingles. After that all she saw was darkness, nothing but a few bright points of light dancing in front of her eyes. She felt the wind flowing chaotically around her, chilling her skin and billowing her nightdress open like a parachute. There she sat suspended for what seemed like hours, her mind feeling tangibly fuzzy, the world swirling around her as a mass of oppressive cold air.  
  
And as quick as the as chilled hurricane had arisen around her, it dissipated, and all was calm again. She felt a firm presence pressed against her side, and looping beneath her shoulders and legs. She opened eyes, and though her vision was blurry and fuzzy, she still recognized the face that grinned down at her.  
  
"Doctor, I must say," Clarice trailed off as her vision finally became clear, and she looked down to find herself suspended in his arms several feet above the grass, "that was a pretty damn good catch."  
  
Lecter continued to grin at her, his dark eyes glinting in the dim light of the night. She basked in the warmth radiating from his body, and felt herself wanting to snuggle in close to him. She caught herself though, surprised and disgusted at how weak and uncontrolled her emotions were becoming.  
  
"And Starling, I must complement you on your graceful fall." The doctor bowed down his head in a respectful hello, replacing words with gestures as he often did.   
  
Clarice nodded back, feeling goose bumps rising all along her chilled thighs.  
  
"Clarice, you must be quite cold. That dainty nightgown doesn't seem to be covering much." He said, tilting his head lightly towards her thighs.  
  
She glanced down at them and blushed. Her lace nightgown had gone to the mercy of the wind during her fall, finding its way up her body, and finally wrapping itself around her hips. The silky pale skin on the inside of her thighs were bared suggestively at Lecter, the gentle curve of her flesh ducking under the shadow of the fabric just in time to conceal the more delicate and supple curves of Clarice's more intimate areas. Lecter himself maintained his gaze on Clarice's face, never once daring a glance at the alluring trail of pale flesh leading up her leg and into the treasure between her thighs.  
  
Clarice hurriedly and awkwardly yanked her nightgown back to its proper length, battering down her own desire for Hannibal to shift his gaze hungrily to her lower portions.  
  
Once she was satisfied that her gown had been restored to dignity, she looked back up at Lecter, his overwhelming gaze locking with her own, the intricate and enthralling depths of his eyes delving into her own. She felt invaded, she felt her entire soul being pulled out of her body with one fluid motion, and for a fraction of a second, she felt so wholly aroused that she was consumed by the urge to trace every inch of his body with her hand. She felt herself craning her neck, her lips pulling themselves towards the pale, smooth flesh of his mouth as if of their own accord. Inside, Clarice was screaming at herself to stop, but her entire body shook with the insane desire that was consuming her thoughts.  
  
Just as her face drew close enough that she could feel the caressing touch of his breath against her skin, he lowered his arms, setting her feet softly on the grass. She felt her back arching up towards with a stubborn refusal to let go, her fingernails digging into the flesh at his arms as she begged for him to continue to hold her body against his. Nevertheless, he released his grip, letting her body fall upright onto the grass.  
  
"Are you feeling ok, Starling? That was quit the fall." Hannibal looked down at her, his eyes still glittering with the intensity she had seen before.  
  
His words knocked Clarice back into reality, where she stood in slack-jawed awe at what she had almost just done. Her mind raced, trying to find a logical explanation for why she had just felt that way. Her entire body felt almost numb, except for the warm rush of blood in her cheeks, and the enflamed tingling inside her thighs. There was nothing she could tell herself that could remove the shame of the way she had just acted, so she gave up, resigning herself to a quiet fear of her own inability to control her feelings.  
  
She smiled timidly at Lecter, hoping to god that he had not noticed her latest loss of control.  
  
"So, you got me up and out. What do you want?" Clarice questioned, carefully smoothing out the wrinkles in her nightgown, if just to keep her hands occupied.  
  
"That's no way to ask a question Agent Starling."  
  
"Okay, fine. May I ask what do you want Dr. Lecter?" she flashed an annoyed smile, reluctantly following along with Hannibal's strict guide of etiquette.  
  
Hannibal reached out and brushed his hand against hers, wrapping his fingers firmly around her palm. He gently drew her closer to him, his eyes glowing like with a predatory heat that both scared and impassioned Clarice. Her eyes grew wide as he drew her close, until once again she could feel the soft touch of his breath on her cheeks. She gasped, unsure whether she'd be able to take any more of this without giving in to her primal desires.   
  
" I just wanted to let you know, I'm leaving tomorrow night and I won't be back." Hannibal whispered, his warm breath whirling around her face, his eyes capturing hers like magnets.  
  
"Till..?"  
  
"Till never Clarice."  
  
Her jaw dropped slightly.  
  
"What..why?"  
  
"Because Agent Starling, they know I'm here. They've known for some time. Your 'superiors'. And it's getting too risky for me to stay here in America. Not just for me, but for you. It is also too risky for me coming back, especially coming back to visit you. That is the only reason. I am only here to see you Clarice." For the first since she had met him, Hannibal's eyes grew soft, the confident set of his face and mouth fading into uncertainty.  
  
Clarice stared into Hannibal's eyes, in disbelief. She did not know what to think, or what do feel. Was he being serious? He was leaving? He felt her, the temporary sense of elation she had been feeling in his presence vanish, sucked into a bottomless void that was filled only by him. She had never known this void was there until now. It was true, Clarice thought to her self, 'you don't know what you got 'till its gone'.  
  
Or was the bubbly feeling in her stomach something else; was she glad he was leaving and never returning? Was it a relief, the end of innumerable stresses and confusing thoughts?  
  
No.  
  
She was sad. It was a void, and it was him that as creating it. Did she really need him that much? Had this cunning and devious monster really became something that she depending on with her life?  
  
No.  
  
No, she repeated to herself, there was no way she had become that weak.  
  
She was just confused, in shock. It was all so sudden. It felt like a dream.  
  
"Clarice?" He brought his other hand to her cheek, and gently traced the pronounced curves of her face with two subtle fingers. "What are you thinking?"  
  
"I don't know how to feel. I'm confused."  
  
"Confused, why?"  
  
"My...my feelings are creating the confusion. I don't know. I mean, I must admit Doctor I do have some kind of feelings for you. You already know that, you always have," she paused, " But Dr. Lecter if you're implying I should run away with you.I can't. It would never work. I'm a federal agent.at heart at least. You, your.." she stopped, and tore her gaze away from his, unable to bear the thought that he knew exactly what she was going to say.  
  
"I'm what Clarice? A Monster?" He said gravely, his eyes following the slow pitching of her head, stalking her movements carefully.  
  
"No.no I wasn't going to say that!"  
  
"Hmm, really? Then what Clarice? What am I to you?" he said rather harshly.  
  
Clarice opened her mouth to speak but nothing came out.  
  
"I always thought you were more intuitive, Clarice, than to see me as the cold blooded 'monster' that the world sees me as. I always expected more from you, that ability to look deeper into a person; an ability that few have, and even fewer use. I guess you are not one of the few. Am I wrong Clarice?" His voice was louder now, his hand beginning to grow tense on her face.  
  
Clarice forced back a wave of tears that welled up from inside her, desperately searching for the words to explain her to him. How could she, when she could even explain herself to herself?  
  
"No! You KNOW I think of you as more than a monster! It just won't work out, okay!?"  
  
Finally the growing tide of tears broke through, and once again salty droplets began searing their way down her cheeks, landing like crystal dewdrops on the cold grass below.  
  
Hannibal sighed, his face and body softening up again. He lifted his hand from her face, sweeping his finger across her cheek, and lifting up a single, shimmering gem of water. He gazed at it for a second, as if seeing some kind of images in it, before shaking it smoothly to the ground, and focusing back on Clarice.  
  
"Clarice, I'm sorry. I don't know what came over me. But to answer your question, I won't make you do anything against your will. All I am saying if you wanted, you would have this one chance to get away. Get away from what the FBI has done to you over all these years you suffered. Away from the lonely nights, with only your pillow to comfort you. Away from the liquor and coke, the temporary havens that only destroy you even faster. Away from those screaming lambs. Clarice I don't want to see such a strong woman, a warrior, who completely dies on the inside." She closed her eyes, letting her hot tears fall to the hard ground. She did want to get away from it all. Not just get away, but also get away with him. Just run away from her old life, and from her past. She wanted to be with him, and know that that void inside her would never again haunt her dreams.  
  
But she couldn't. The problem, and solution, did not lie in him. She had never depended on other people for her happiness, and doing so now, when she was the most exposed and weak, would only lead to disaster. She had always been alone, and she would always be alone.  
  
"No," she said under her breath, " I can't, so just..give up."  
  
She whirled herself around to face away from him, her nightgown swishing at her knees.  
  
Hannibal gazed sorrowfully at the back of this beautiful creature. He had been so sure she would say yes. He had been so confident she would want to be with him. Now, he had lost all faith. For once he felt true sadness burrow deep within himself, like an infestation within his very being. He felt a sensation that he hadn't experienced since he was a little boy: loneliness. The simple fact was his was heart breaking. He never thought it was possible, but now as his entire world collapsed on him, he realized it was. It was.  
  
"I understand," Lecter calmly spoke to Clarice's turned back, to confused and lost inside this new emotion to conjure up any other words.  
  
He sighed and walked up behind Clarice, placing both hands lightly on her shoulders. He bent over, and pressed his lips softly against that tender, painful badge called 'courage'. She felt one of his hands pull back, and rifle through his pocket. Then it reappeared over her shoulder, reaching down towards her hands, which lay frozen at her side. She lifted her hand to meet his, expecting him to lock his fingers around hers once more, but he didn't. Instead he placed a small, black jewelry box, with sides like polished ebony, into her palm, and drew his hand back.  
  
"Good-bye Agent Starling." He whispered in her ear, then slowly turned on his heel and walked away. He was quickly enveloped into the shadows, his body disappearing forever.  
  
Clarice clamper her eyes shut, begging herself not to turn around, not to run after him crying "Don't leave me!" She tore herself up inside, her desires jousting violently with her logic, the fury of the battle spilling more of her blood that any blade could. More than anything in the world she wanted to turn and around and call to him, to confess to him that she did need him and that she wanted to be with him forever.  
  
~Nobody said it was easy,  
  
It's such a shame for us to part  
  
Nobody said it was easy, no one ever said it would be this hard~  
  
She was alone now. The dark, cold void of loneliness collapsed in on her like water, stealing away her breath. She fought with it inside her, this strange feeling that she never had hoped she would ever feel. It tore away at her soul, dissolving everything she knew and thought she understood in life. Her heart was broken. She had never even knew she had a heart; her entire life had been spent slowly removing pieces and shards of her heart that had already been shattered, making sure that they could never, ever, break again. She had thrown away her feelings, drowned everything in her loneliness. Yet somehow it had risen again to haunt her, the each already fractured piece of her heart being smashed into a million more minute pieces. Without them, she would die, yet with them, she could not live.  
  
She lowered her gaze to her hand, and gazed in a sorrowful fascination at the beautiful black box. She carefully reached over and flipped open the lid, her eyes growing wide as she revealed the contents. It was an amazing silver necklace, each link glimmering brightly even in the shadows that enveloped it. From one point in the loop hung two exquisitely engraved silver lambs, the pair cuddling up against each other, as if the metal creatures were trying to comfort one another. Just as she thought the shard of her heart could be shattered no more, they were; each piece erupted into a million tiny fragments that pierced through Clarice's soul. She thought she could feel her life bleeding away into the night.   
  
All Hannibal Lecter had wanted was to be with her. All he had wished for was her happiness. Nothing more. And Clarice denied him. Denied him of his security, his cure for the pain, his love. She finally understood what she had done to him, how she had destroyed him. And she now realized that that same destruction would eat her up inside too.  
  
"No, Clarice. You did the right thing..the right thing," she repeated, each lie cutting her deeper than the last. She was beyond savior.  
  
At that she turned around to the tree, and without even rely thinking about it, climbed slowly up the branches, and back onto the shingled roof. She stepped carelessly on the shingles, half wishing she would slip and fall, finally ending this horrible nightmare she had created for herself. Yet she had no such luck, and crawled back into her room. She fell asleep with a hollow space deep in her chest, holding her pillow and the box. 


End file.
